


How Alike We Are

by BrokePerception



Category: Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-10 04:04:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 51
Words: 82,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokePerception/pseuds/BrokePerception
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn’t how you are alike only; it is how you are not, too. MirAndy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

FOR the great, the talented…   ** _hermin22_**!

* * *

BETA READ by _Kreacher’s Peepers_ (Kudos!)

* * *

Chapter 1 (Tuesday, March 27, 2007)

John Englund's, Editor-in-Chief of the biweekly magazine _Life Today_ , brow furrowed at the look upon his best writer's features that Tuesday night, a little after nine. He stood at her desk in wonder, surprised by her response. "What's the matter?" he wanted to know. He hadn't thought his suggestion as that big a deal –– not for her to be sitting there with jaw slacked, eyes wide and nearly bulging. His confusion merely grew as the woman shook her head wildly.

"Oh, no no no no," Andy said and moved her hands over her eyes, lowering her head in them for a long moment. It shook a few more times until she let both hands slide down to lay in her lap. She then just stared at him with still-incredulous eyes, seemingly hoping that he hadn't meant it.

"Come on, Andy," he said, shifting most of his weight onto his other leg. The look upon the recent officially middle-aged Editor-in-Chief had now been replaced by one of non-apprehension accompanied by a need for clarification. "I'm quite sure that our readers would be interested to know what it is really like as a woman at the top of the chain. Most of the readership consists of middle-class woman between twenty and fifty –– normal women with a household and a regular job who chose to have a family one day instead of a career. Wouldn't it be intriguing to know what just might have become of their lives otherwise?"

Six months had passed by already since she head left the Editor-in-Chief of _Runway_ in Paris to try and get her life in hand once more. The _Mirror_ had taken Andy in right away rather unexpectedly –– a job which had proven to be very demanding as well in its own little way, but slightly less on the verge of impossible and far more rewarding than her job at _Runway_ truly ever had or could have been. She had actually felt appreciated when she had done something challenging and good. Others had often told her or showed her so. At _The_ _New York Mirror_ , she no longer had to watch others closely to notice when they pursed their lips or shook their heads virtually unnoticeably and somehow take her conclusions from that only. The Editor-in-Chief and her colleagues had smiled without any reservations when she had done something good for the magazine, and when she unexpectedly got the opportunity to be the writer-in-chief for a magazine that was only just getting going after four months at _The_ _New York Mirror_ , their well-whishes had been nothing but very genuine.

She had taken the chance with both hands. It had seemed suitably challenging, despite how being a writer for a newspaper had always been her dream.

So Andy stayed in New York… even as Nate left for Boston. She regretted that in a way, but nonetheless she really hoped and actually thought it was better like that. Nate and she had been together couple since high school, but as they grew into their 'new' lives after, into adulthood… maybe unconsciously they grew to be independent from each other as well. They were no teenagers anymore, after all.

"Of course," Andy said. "I just–– I––" she stuttered, then, "John, you know very well that is not the point. I'm sure that it will be 'intriguing' for our readers if I can manage to accurately write it and all, but––"

"I believe in your abilities as a writer," John said, a small smile momentarily upon his lips. He really hoped he could convince her, as he was warming to the idea more each second that passed. As she just continued to look at him hopelessly, silence stretching between them, he sighed and added, "Come on, Andy. Miranda Priestly is perfect, and not a lot of women can say they have worked for that lady. You've had an insider's view, which I'm certain will attract readers. You have seen it all from so very close."

"John," Andy tried in a nearly desperate tone. "The job was demanding and far from a fairytale, no matter what others imagine it to be. I thought it perfect, too, at first. It couldn't really be that hard, could it? Well, a lot of the details don't stretch past _Runway_ and the world it belongs to –– just how harsh she truly is, for instance. I can easily go on: how she makes even established designers stutter from merely pursing her lips thinly, how she works through day and night… You learn not to search a fight with her."

"That's just so very interesting!" John exclaimed, finding it hard to hide his increasing enthusiasm. "What do you have to lose? You quit; you don't work for her anymore. You wouldn't get fired, if that is what you're worried about."

"Oh, believe me," Andy said, "she could push me and you so far that you have no choice in it anymore. She could have me fired." _She could have me on the street within hours of the article having gotten published_ , Andy told herself. Word travelled fast in that kind of world as well. Miranda would have read it instantly, would have known who had written the article… Andy was happy working as a writer for _Life Today._ While it included fashion very basically, it covered way more than that: life today and all that entailed, containing women with curves and above size four. She had lots of variety in the articles she wrote and read through. She liked doing what she did, no matter if it most likely was on a far removed level from _Runway_ and its competitor fashion magazines.

"Why would she do such a thing?" the Editor-in-Chief of _Life Today_ wondered aloud, not understanding her fears entirely. "If she's always so occupied as you say, then why would she waste her time on that? It doesn't give her any advantage really."

Andy nodded. He did have a point –– if only she had not witnessed it. "You're right," she said, "and I can't answer that; I doubt Miranda herself can give it a rational twist. However, I've seen her do it. The truth isn't as fancy as any of her magazine covers, and I'm not good at lying."

"I never asked you to."

"True," Andy admitted, then sighed. She could see the potential, sure enough. "Still, I would have to watch what I write. I would have to be extremely careful when wording it, very careful indeed."

Realization finally seemed to dawn upon John's face. He seemed thoughtful for a second, then asked to see if he had actually understood all correctly. "So you're afraid that she'll see it as a sort of violation of her, and that she'll seek revenge on you for showing what she would like to keep beyond closed doors?"

" _Yes_ ," Andy said, stressing the word as much as possible. Miranda not only asked for the impossible to happen; she often made it happen, too. There was very little that Andy didn't believe her capable of. Miranda Priestly's 'kind mind' wouldn't stop her from doing anything for sure. Whereas she often had it done for her instead, Andy thought she just might want to give the final strike herself if it came down to it, given their little history.

"Well, then we'll deal with that if it comes," John said, turning to leave her office when he continued, "She really must be the devil on heels… I say she can't really be that bad."

Andy gaped after him in great disbelief. _She can't really be that bad?_ Who was the one with the insider's view again? Who had seen from the very close how bad Miranda really was? This job was challenging and demanding in all the right ways, paid well… and it might be right where her career ended, too.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 (Friday, March 30, 2007)

Andy Sachs yawned softly, moving her hand over her mouth to hide it although there was no one there except for her in the same apartment she once shared with Nate. She didn't really hear from him anymore since he had moved to Boston to chase his dream, as she had remained to chase hers in New York with _Life Today._ Well, she hoped that he was all right. It hadn't worked between them in the end, but she still thought of him as a really great guy. Andy had had some really good years with him after all. He had been the first one she took home, to her mother and father; in fact… he had been the only one, thus far.

She momentarily wondered whether he still talked to Doug and Lily or not. They had been her high school buddies to begin with, then later Nate's, too. That's when she realized that she hadn't heard from either of them in months, thus even longer than she had heard from Nate.

She gently leaned her head against the old couch, a sigh eschewing from her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut for but a moment. In hindsight, she had come to find that maybe Nate and her once-schoolmates had been right on a certain level at least… She had not only changed in her appearance, she knew… She hadn't truly realized it until after her time at _Runway._ She didn't consider this a bad thing necessarily, though, whereas _Runway_ wasn't the best institution to gain self-esteem considering appreciation was never given, only criticism. You certainly learned the hard way there. She still had learned, though. She had gained quite a lot in efficiency and effectiveness, while she had lost some, if not most, of her silliness and childishness in the process. Bouts of dependency had been replaced by confidence in herself somehow… self-esteem.

 _Runway_ had stripped Andy thoroughly from what little she had had, nearly entirely. However, it might have been only necessary to lose in order to gain more in the end. Therefore, she couldn't say that she regretted it. She doubted that the person Andréa Sachs had been prior to _Runway_ would have managed to convince Human Resources to invite her to be the writer-in-chief for their new magazine, merely by having written some good articles for the newspaper… which had surely been read.

Truth be told, she couldn't blame them for not calling anymore, or texting, or mailing –– what with her always occupied. Their calls had often been cut shorter, more often even ignored, just for Miranda; get-togethers ruined for Miranda or cancelled at the last second or remained unattended without notice. How often had she thought she could 'make it', only to find she wouldn't after all? Even Nate's last birthday hadn't been sacred to the fashion queen.

The times when she had sat down and actually thought she had time, were often late at night… too late to be calling anyone. In the end, months passed by without hearing from any of them, and, to her own shocking revelation, without having had the chance to really miss anyone.

She couldn't really blame them for hating Miranda Priestly. She should as well most likely, but found that she couldn't. She didn't hate easily. She could consider her vicious, yes. She could consider her impossible, yes. Yet, she couldn't hate her, though Miranda Priestly was really one of the most –– no, scratch that –– _the_ most demanding person she had ever met in her whole life.

Being a writer at _Life Today_ did have its demands, too… but she had more freedom. It might have worked like this… maybe. When she quit at the _New York Mirror,_ she had emailed the three of them. Doug had replied two days later, wishing her luck on her new job and a bit more time for herself. Andy had been surprised with the dissociated tone in which the answer had been written –– so much that she, a writer, hadn't been able to find the words to reply with in return anymore. Nate and Lily hadn't even bothered.

At that moment she had known for certain that the ship, the friendship, had sailed… Neither Nate, Lily nor Doug had seemed to want to continue where they had left off. Then again, how far back could they pinpoint that? The day she had accepted the job at _Runway_ , or the one when she had had the makeover?

She sighed once more, moving her hand to her neck and hoping to massage the tension away. She slowly rolled her head forward, focusing on the screen again, on what was supposed to be her finished article.

That woman had caused her to be here today, though, however indirectly.

Scrolling from the bottom to the top of her supposedly finished article to read it through one last time, Andy carefully reached for the bottle of German Riesling down on the floor by her feet, holding her gently humming laptop on her lap with the other hand, and lifted it to her lips, taking a generous swig. She had noticed it gathering dust under the sink while doing cleaning the week prior –– the first time in months where she had had enough time and enough patience to get to it. Andy had surmised that Nate must have once bought it, then forgotten all about it as he had packed his stuff and left her. It definitely didn't look like the sort of bottle she would ever buy. The bottle itself was slightly smaller than an average wine bottle would be, and the alcohol percentage it contained was lower as well. Well, she had the day off tomorrow if she should happen to have a hangover from it anyway, and she definitely needed the invisible encourager in order to be able to do this without insanely worrying over every little word. How the Hell had she let John talk her into this?

She had worked on it every night for the last four days; had scratched, rewritten then re-inserted stuff more than ever, and that sure was saying something, considering the number of articles she had written in her life already.

The article was not so very long. She had refrained from mentioning certain little things for sure, though still thought that these couple of paragraphs conveyed the reality well enough. She had striven for that. Reality or not, you never knew just how Miranda's ways of interpretation worked… on anything.

Her eyes scanned across the words, and as she reached the end of the nearly two pages, she knew that she was as happy as she could ever be about it. Even if she did scramble a couple of sentences or words about, she didn't believe it would lead to her being more satisfied with the final result.

Biting down on her bottom lip then, Andy wondered again how far Miranda could go. The possibility of getting fired was certainly realistic; her career ruined for the rest of her life was a whole other matter… she thought –– but maybe Miranda considered both possibilities as an even, fitting repercussion, though.

She tried to push past those thoughts, those fears. They only succeeded in knotting her intestines together, in a ball of fear –– figuratively speaking, of course.

Switching to her mailbox, she clicked to compose a new mail, typing in John Englund's company address, then 'Article Women at the Top of the Chain' in the subject box, attaching the right file. Then she doubted again. Her cursor merely hovered over the button to send for a few seconds, until she realized that if she wasn't going to do it now, she possibly never would. Closing her eyes and intuitively holding her breath, she clicked, and as she opened her eyes, she found that the mail had been sent correctly. _There goes…_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 (Monday, April 2, 2007)

As Andy arrived at the office that morning, John Englund was still nowhere to be seen. That was definitely not an exception, though. She often arrived first –– maybe her time at _Runway_ could be seen as a primary cause for that, given that she had always begun there early and left late at night, too. Sitting down on her desk chair heavily, she closed her eyes for a long moment. Oh dear, that woman, that one year, really had changed Andy's life forever. Sometimes, she really believed so.

Andy was never much earlier than John Englund, though. He customarily walked in within ten minutes of her. That Monday was no exception as opposed to the last two months. As usual, he offered Andy a warm smile and a 'good morning' and then disappeared into his office to read the emails that had come in since he had left the office. That seemed to have become his ritual. He would read through then all, dealing with any matters of urgency at once himself. John Oswald Englund wasn't the sort of superior who delegated easily –– what he could do himself, he did. He wasn't the sort of superior who asked the impossible from his workers either. He usually set the meetings himself and made phone calls himself when they needed to be made. His assistant, Leyla, usually dealt with the non-electronic type of communication, like letters and phone calls.

After an hour or less, in which time the rest of the staff would arrive at _Life Today_ , he would leave the office and come inform Andy of anything article-related: feedback on those articles that he had let be proofread by some of his contacts, feedback from the readers, what he thought about the articles that she might have sent him and had been read through, suggestions for new article subjects… He then visited his two other writers to tell them what was of relevance for them. Andy stood above them in ranking, as Erica and Robert were both fledgling writers. The two shared an office a bit further down the hallwayof the fourth floor, which _Life Today_ rented in the tall New York building, past the bathrooms and the small but suitable kitchen. Andy's was located right beside John's near the elevators.

The three of them wrote and worked more as equals, though. She didn't see them as less than her, and they didn't see her as above them either. Andy liked this, because she didn't see herself as much more than a beginner either. She had, after all, never written for a magazine, despite having worked for one of the best known and highest sellers a year prior.

The more challenging articles were often still given to Andy, though –– like the Miranda Priestly article. Andy doubted she was only chosen because of her 'inside experience'. She always read through both Erica and Robert's pieces and did small edits when needed prior to sending them off to John. Consequently, John Englund's confidence in her was touching… but foolish, incredibly foolish. _Oh so very foolish indeed._

He didn't let her down when fifty-five minutes after arriving he moved to leave his office, walking straight into Andy's. She was just getting to the two new articles Robert had sent through to her by mail. They hadn't worked together very long, and thus, they didn't know each other very well, in comparison to Erica and Robert, who had studied together and known one another for years already. He seemed like a kind enough guy, though –– maybe a bit like _Runway_ 's Nigel. Sometimes she really missed the unique Art Director.

"Hello."

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't see you!" Andy exclaimed. She hadn't seen John leave his office through the high glass walls of the separate working spaces, nor heard his footsteps as he neared her desk. He gave her a small but sincere smile as she lifted her gaze.

"Oh, don't apologize," he said, shaking it off at once. "You seemed to be very focused. I can only applaud it, because it mostly means that you like what you do… and usually, one does better with what one likes to do."

"Ah." Andy smiled widely. That's what she enjoyed about her job at _Life Today_ , too. She never really felt underappreciated. John and the others made sure so.

"Robert's articles?" John asked, nodding at her laptop and moving to lean against her desk, folding his arms loosely over his torso –– he did that when he had a lot to say, Andy realized.

She gabbled for words as the thought crossed her mind prior to uttering her reply. "Yeah… I'm nearly through the article about the automation of new cars in the last ten years. I don't have much to say there. I switched a few bits in the introduction and corrected some little typos, but otherwise I liked it."

John nodded. "Alright. I have read through your article about Woman at the Top of the Chain –– it was a lot better than I ever could have imagined, yet… just what I had in mind, too! Your article is just what I believe will really interest the readers."

John's smile had always been a little infectious, and Andy couldn't help but smile in return. "I'm glad you liked it," Andy said, then admitted, "I wasn't sure if you would." She bit down on her bottom lip, watching as the cogs seemed to churn deep within John's head. She never could have imagined to see herself having this sort of conversation with Miranda Priestly, who was always to the point with every word and did not appreciate or condone babbling in any shape or form… and what she defined as babbling really was a lot. This would be considered babbling, considered pointless, unnecessary…

The monologues in Andy's head would definitely be considered babbling and undoubtedly just childish nonsense for sure. Taking a deep breath, she wondered when she would stop comparing everyone to Miranda Fucking Priestly –– especially her bosses and colleagues. Oh yes… definitely babbling, pointless, unnecessary…

"I believe it could get published within the month, if we're lucky enough," John suddenly said, his tone business-like though not any less kind than it usually was. "I have received a rather interesting request from one of our readers again… well, a few, actually," he admitted, handing her a couple of papers which undoubtedly contained them. He smiled at his writer-in-chief once more, then left Andy's office to check in with Erica and Robert next.

She smiled after him, gently laying the papers down on the desk to read over Robert's articles. She didn't have to ask to know John must have eliminated the multitude of emails of little relevance already. The few papers that he shared with her on Mondays were surely the most plausible and interesting ones the Editor-in-Chief must have saved from the previous week. He had shown her his mailbox one morning –– the moment when she had been more certain than ever that she never wanted his spot or any chief-editor's for that matter. Altogether, she was of course glad that the magazine got such a great response already, considering it hadn't been kicked into life too long ago –– certainly not as long as those soon-to-be seventy three years of _Runway._

As she realized where her mind had gone to again, she wanted to just… Argh. Her history with _Runway_ and Miranda Priestly had changed Andy, certainly. It had happened that occasionally, she had missed her colleagues from there, like Nigel, and that she compared most things to her time there at the fashion magazine. However, it had never really taken hold by this magnitude until John had come to her with his secretly hidden demand. _Why, John? Why? Why? Why?_

Sighing deeply, Andy finally lowered her head upon the desk for all but a moment and groaned.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 (Thursday, April 5, 2007)

Nervousness coursed fast through Andy, her smile unsteady as she accepted the copy of _Life Today_ that had been distributed for selling that same morning. John had returned with it after his eleven-forty-five business lunch, as he did every two weeks when a new issue had been published.

Oh yes, Andy's piece about 'Women at the Top of the Chain' had indeed made it in this one. Once John had disappeared into his office, she flipped through the issue until she found the article that had succeeded in elevating her heartbeat and messing with her mind for the past one and a half weeks. Sure, it had been slightly exhilarating, still was in a way, to see her name appear first in the newspaper, then later in _Life Today_ as author of this or that article –– a dream come true every time, or so it always felt like to her. As the pages fell open to reveal this particular article, though, Andy's heart beat much harder than it ever had, she thought. It did so in a way that was very different, too. It didn't feel comfortable at all, let alone thrilling in any way. It seemed to be the proof that her career was going to end soon.

The whole morning had passed by without any calls, and if John had had any related to the article or herself while on his business lunch, she assumed that he would have said so upon his return as always.

Closing her eyes and taking some deep breaths, Andy slowly closed the magazine, trying to collect her thoughts. The article had been written and published; no matter how many times she re-read it, there was no turning back. In fact, there already hadn't been any turning back the second Andy had sent the file over to John. She didn't really know if that should either calm her or alarm her more, though.

Her eyes shot open, and she looked about herself. She was acting like an idiot. The article had been very objective considering the subject, and selective, too. She must have read through it about twenty times to check even between the lines if there were no openings anywhere for misinterpretations or any (un)hidden meanings, and had found none at all when she had considered it 'finished' after her final read. Miranda most likely would have read it by now, and if she had not been happy about it, Andy surely would have known by now.

She shook her head over her own foolishness and averted her gaze again to the computer screen, hoping to continue doing research for one of her next articles with new-found courage. There was no reason to go into a panic. Her small pep talk to herself seemed to help indeed, and she was glad enough to find that it did. For the very first time that day, she didn't jump up as she heard the telephone ring in John's office half an hour later, like she had the rest of the day until then. Each time had been followed by intense relief when not followed by her being called into the Editor-in-Chief's office or John entering hers instead.

She wasn't even aware of the length of his telephone conversation, her love for her job and interest in the next article having succeeded in carrying her away, getting her full attention and pulling her in within seconds. She was slightly surprised even, when she heard the phone on her desk. Blinking and averting her eyes from the screen, she reached for it, being met with her superior's voice asking if she could join him in his office.

She laid the handset down with a trembling hand and stood, her newly found confidence all gone. Her head spun as she did as he requested, too many scenarios racing through her head.

Still shaking, she closed the door to the office after herself and sat down in the chair opposite John at his desk like he had indicated with a small gesture of his hand. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, and she gazed at her fingers twitching restlessly in her lap as she waited for John to convey what that phone call had just been about –– there was, of course, no question at all who had made it in her head. She didn't believe in coincidence like that. She suspected that he knew she knew why she had been called in there.

"Miranda Priestly," he confirmed very casually –– a bit too casually to sound convincing, though. Andy, suddenly remembering how impolite it was not to look at your conversational partner while talking, swallowed hard, lifting her gaze slowly to his and looking him in the eye. "She wondered if I could let you go tomorrow morning at ten-thirty for brunch with her," he said.

Heart hammering even harder in her chest, Andy immediately parted her lips in order to reply, then found she had no idea what to say. 'Fuck' really came closest to a summary of her jumbled thoughts. So, Miranda really wanted to do it all personally, bore her down into the depths of the earth and tell her that her career was over and whatever else? Miranda really wanted to give her the final blow herself, huh? Andy had expected no less –– not from Miranda Priestly.

She forced herself to stop this train of thought as John continued talking. She remembered how impolite it was not to listen to your conversational partner while talking as well. Her mother had always reminded her and her three year older brother of that when the two had been younger. "I, erm…" she began, hopelessly at a loss for sensible words. _Fuck it._

"I told her that would be no trouble and that I would make sure you arrived at the restaurant where she asked to meet well in time. Sardi's isn't exactly cheap," he said, "although most likely a lot cheaper than she's used to. Then again, you say that she's addicted to Starbucks coffee, too… and it isn't that special or very expensive that regular customers who get paid a lot less don't go there."

"In time would be around ten to fifteen minutes early for Miranda Priestly," Andy stated, as sprouting facts had often been the way to keep conversation going, at least in her experience –– even if these particular facts were unrelated to the topic at hand. It had caused her a lot of glares and such already, but still… At least this time Andy had managed to come with a fact that was not directly unrelated to the point of their conversation.

John did not laugh at her, nor was his usual smile there as he merely nodded in reply. "All right," he said, then sighed. "I'll let you leave here at a quarter to ten tomorrow so you'll have enough time to get there for your ten-thirty brunch with her. I don't suppose that it'll run late, so I'll see you here after." The smile he offered Andy after that was unconvincing, but at least signified the end of their conversation nonetheless.

"Okay," Andy said and then stood, leaving the office slowly, her heart no longer racing at this point. Instead, it felt much like it had sunken deep into the pit of her stomach, very deep.

She sat down in her chair behind her desk again and just wanted to burst into tears right then and there… when suddenly her mobile phone began buzzing and ringing. Reaching for the tiny thing, she flipped the lid and held the phone to her ear, not even having looked at who was calling to begin with. It appeared to be her dad. "Hey, Dad," she said as she recognized his deep voice. "Oh, I'm okay... I'm at work. I'm just doing a bit of research here…"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 (Friday, April 6, 2007)

Andy Sachs was not a good driver at all. She had gotten her permit to drive at age sixteen like everyone else (or most at least), after having had a few necessary lessons and a lot of rounds around the neighborhood with her mother and father, and even a few times with her older brother, who had succeeded right away in getting his permit. She, however, hadn't, having succeeded only after the fourth try. Of course, she had had her few drives in her hometown with her dad's car when she had needed to go somewhere aside from school, which she had always got to by bus. A couple of times she had been allowed to drive her older brother's second-hand dark green Peugeot 106. He had never had any single ambition to go into further education, and had worked with a construction firm from age nineteen. After the first year, he had bought himself a car, and then after the second he and his girl moved in together. That had been all Andy's driving experience: a few drives in her hometown for small errands.

She did not miss having a car in New York, though. These were, after all, the United States of America, the Big Apple. There were always enough cabs, subways or buses whenever you needed to get from one point to another, and she was glad for that. She doubted that she ever would have made it to Sardi's in time had she driven there herself. She had the tendency –– always had –– to do something stupid or reckless while in the car when nervous, always causing the engine to die (and that usually a few times) until she managed to get her raging nerves under control and get on the way again. She had once had that happen at a crossroads. She still got jittery recalling how the driver behind had made her even more nervous with his horn… and nervous didn't even begin to describe how she felt now. So yes, Andy Sachs was glad to be living in the Big Apple, and therefore not needing to drive herself to the brunch meeting with Miranda –– this despite the fact that she had been squashed between a lot of others who seemed in a hurry to get somewhere and use the subway for the cost or ease. You just had to deal with the not so clean and healthy environment. At least if the subway stopped with a jolt as was common, she wouldn't have to hold onto anything, because she just couldn't fall with all these other passengers keeping her right where she stood.

The subway released her and a few others at the stop that was closest to the restaurant where she was supposed to meet Miranda Priestly for goodness knew what, although Andy had a 'vague' idea of what was to come. Sleep had not come at all the night prior. She had only tossed and turned in bed for hours, resulting in ugly, bluish, bruise-like bags under her eyes. She had tried to camouflage them with some concealer –– after all, Miranda liked perfection. She somehow believed Miranda would otherwise secretly enjoy the effect that she still had on her ex-assistant –– the power to make her have sleepless nights over a simple get-together with her. Andy wouldn't give her that joy. However, she had always been that a little bit clumsy with applying makeup and never good enough in order to get the result she wanted. At _Runway_ , it had been done for her when she needed to accompany Miranda to more _exclusive_ parties.

As she neared the restaurant where she was supposed to meet the Dragon Lady, Andy saw the impeccable silver Mercedes waiting by the curb. This suggested it would definitely not be a long visit, and Andy somehow suspected she most likely wouldn't even get a chance to order and taste the renowned food for herself. More often than not as the Dragon Lady's assistant, she had to deal with at least one comment about something either missing or being overly used in their food, when Andy had thought the dish was heavenly. She doubted that had changed at all in the last year.

She was not surprised that Miranda had already arrived, although it had only just reached ten-ten –– thus twenty minutes ahead of schedule. Offering her coat to the good-looking and smiling guy in suit by the entrance, Andy smiled weakly as she walked into the lobby on shaky legs. It had not been a good idea to wear these incredibly high shoes to this at all. She had hoped to impress Miranda somehow. Miranda Priestly was hard to impress, though… and if she fell in them, Andy was sure she would just have a good laugh over it, for she would have shown once again that she didn't know a thing about fashion, shouldn't try to be what she was not and never would be either.

Miranda, while not permanently dressed in what she would call fancy, was always to be noticed right away. She seemed to have that certain air of… well, 'presence' about her that just drew eyes. Swallowing the bile in her throat again, Andy quickly turned her gaze down and tried to remain focused on her feet and steps, hoping to make a balance between walking slow enough not to trip and walking fast enough not to give Miranda Priestly any more of a reason to criticize her. Miranda didn't like when _anything_ moved slower than it could and thus should in her opinion. To say she didn't like to be kept waiting was an understatement of epic proportions.

Crossing the room to where Miranda sat lasted both longer than realistically possible but also happened in a flash –– definitely not long enough to collect her thoughts and calm down, but no matter how long she would have taken to reach the table, it never would have lasted long enough to do that.

Sitting down upon the unoccupied seat with an air of confidence that Andy didn't really feel, she carefully directed her eyes to Miranda, flashing what she really hoped to be a sincere smile. Miranda did not smile in return. Good –– she hadn't expected her to either. "Good morning, Miranda." Miranda did not return this either, and again, Andy hadn't expected her to in any case… but that would not mean foregoing her own usual kindness.

Miranda's behavior was businesslike as always, Andy noticed. She could see that in the way she sat, in the way she watched Andy with eyes reminding her eerily of a hawk eyeing up its prey somehow. Oh well, the sooner this was over with the better then. If it meant the end of her career or not, she knew that she could not delay the inevitable anyway.

Without taking the time to greet her ex-assistant, Miranda cut straight to the chase. "I was surprised," she said. "Of course, I don't have time to read all you write. I am an extremely busy businesswoman as you said yourself in your little article. However, I received a phone call rather early yesterday morning from an acquaintance of mine who had seen it. You see, word does travel fast in this business. I doubt you have forgotten about that." She sighed, and Andy watched her cross her legs. "Anyhow, I read it and as I said… I was surprised. Very surprised."

Miranda continued watching her with icy blue, mesmerizing eyes… and Andy didn't really know whether she was pausing to deliver the final blow or wanted Andy to contribute something instead. From the first minute, the meeting had taken the form of a monologue more than a conversation anyway, and Andy felt like one of Miranda's assistants again, waiting by her desk with her notepad and pen, trying to scribble everything down that needed to be done and remember all what she couldn't write down. When Miranda finally cocked her head after a handful of seconds of silence, as if to prompt for Andy's part in the conversation, the younger woman asked with a squeaky voice, "Surprised?"

Miranda nodded slowly. "I really must say that I had anticipated worse, but the article was… fairly decent –– for you, at least. Those with no clue whatsoever about the world you were ever so fleetingly a part of would never know. However, _I_ can tell you've done your best to 'forget' certain bits and have worded yourself carefully. Foolish. I'm not sure if you have managed to convey the truth like this. I'm appalled that after having worked for _Runway_ , you still haven't learned that those who take risks get the furthest."

Anger momentarily overruled her fright. "So, I should have just published all the gory details on _Runway_ … on _you_?"

"You should have learned by now that the gory details sell best," Miranda said. Since when had Miranda Priestly become an expert on that, too? Andy wondered. "You wouldn't be the first to say I live for my work only, and that's why I get the most from _Runway._ You wouldn't be the first to say that if I had a heart at all, it must be hidden deep within. You learn that you have to rely on your mind most of all when you're in a position like the one I'm in. Your heart should never be on the line in any business."

Why was she telling her this? "I'm not you," Andy spoke, "or like you even. I'm happy doing a job I like, even if it does not make me world famous. I don't want to be like you. I _never_ want to be like you."

Miranda's eyes showed surprise for just a moment. It seemed she had never anticipated for Andy to speak to her in that way. Then, however, to Andy's utter surprise, she smiled. Her smile was gruesome, though… revealing her remarkably small but even, pointed but perfectly straight, white teeth. It reminded Andy of her smile directed at Jacqueline Follet in Paris, much like a dog baring its teeth. The fear for what would undoubtedly happen returned, surpassing her rising anger once more. "Of course," Miranda replied. "You believe you're so different from me, but I have a heart and a brain, like you. I just use them differently than most and different from you, too… but not as much as you might hope or believe. I'm just saying, Andrea. You will have to do better if you would like to get anywhere in life. It wouldn't surprise me if you didn't, though… It would just be what I expected from the smarter, fat girl I once hired… who in the end appeared even more stupid than the rest of them put together."

Andy didn't quite know how to react to that. Somewhere between the lines she seemed to believe that Andy could make it if only she took more risks with her articles… If indeed, there had been any kind of praise in her verbal attack, then she would possibly never get to experience it anymore obviously. Was that then what Miranda had wanted to tell her so personally?

Her reverie was suddenly interrupted by Miranda pushing back her chair and smoothly rising to her feet. She half-expected to hear her say the very familiar, 'That's all', to indicate the end of one of her to do lists, like she had at _Runway_.

She just watched as one of the young men in suits came hurrying over with her violet colored fur coat and matching bag and helped her don the most likely expensive coat. Miranda didn't give her so much as a second look, let alone a nod or a pursing of the lips. Andy looked after her for a moment as Miranda airily stalked from the lobby of Sardi's and wondered how a woman like that managed to look so breathless still. She stole Andy's own breath away with how her straight ecru skirt hugged her in all the right ways, as had the white wrap top that had fitted her to perfection.

The anger she felt towards Miranda Priestly hadn't dissipated entirely, though… despite having been taken aback for a little while there. Thinking about it, she should not have been all that surprised to hear that tone spill forth from Miranda Priestly/ That tone that had always irritated Andy so. Maybe the most terrifying of all, though, was that Miranda hadn't raised her voice even for one single second, always keeping to that same bittersweet but soft tone she always used.

"Of course you're not heartless… that's why you have to convince everyone you aren't. I wonder if you believe it yourself," Andy spat to the chair opposite, no matter if now abandoned or not –– she needed to get it from her system. If she hadn't seen the woman cry that once, or right after what Andy had assumed to have been close to a breakdown in Paris, she never would have believed Miranda capable of feeling anything human at all. She didn't care whether the other patrons nearby heard her or not. The chances that she would ever dine there again were small anyway. She had no reference for the food or even the wine or the service.

What Andy wasn't aware of as she stood as well, was that her voice had carried just far enough for her words to have reached Miranda, who had halted in the hallway to close her purse. It had popped open when she hung it over her shoulder (that one had had its last trip in Miranda's company), and had made her halt just a bit longer than necessary…

As Andy smiled and waved politely at the butler that had helped Miranda from the table ensuring she could take care of herself, Nate's words of many months ago hit her again, full force. " _You know, in case you were wondering, the person whose calls you always take, that's the relationship you're in. I hope you two are very happy together._ " Some relationship. At least there was no doubt about who was the dominatrix.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The subway was relatively calm as she returned to the company. Nonetheless, she had to move and leave her seat two stops prior to her destination when a lady her age stepped on who was obviously with child. If you didn't see the huge bulge her belly had become, the necklace with a bell that rested atop of it was a definite sign –– a bola, Andy thought the charm might be called. This one was silver with a pair of tiny feet etched on it, she saw.

Of course, Andy wasn't forced to leave and offer her seat to the other woman if she didn't want to, but it was common politeness. At least, that's what she had always been taught –– offer your seat to the elderly and women with child, for they had a much harder time being on their feet than you. As she carefully eyed the huge weight the woman carried, she understood. Most of them were grateful when you offered them your seat, and this lady was no exception. She sent a warm smile in Andy's direction, sitting down on the abandoned seat rather awkwardly, obviously not helped by the bulk of her belly. Andy really had no idea of how far along she was. The smile she returned wasn't as wide as it would have been on any other day –– not right after a meeting like that with Miranda Priestly. She thought of babies and then settling down herself for a fleeting moment when she saw women like this on the street sometimes. This was not such a time, though, for once. She was still too angry, and it was nearly… _comical_ …how effectively her nervousness of less than an hour ago had been switched to such anger.

Who did that woman believe she was? She may well be Chief-Editor of _Runway_ America and have great connections, fame, a lot of influence and whatnot, but did that make her an expert in all that existed, really? "You believe you know it all, don't you?" Andy muttered to herself irritably. Since when had Miranda become such an expert in reporting or writing in general? Who the Hell was she to run through others' articles at _Runway_ and decide if they were good enough when she most likely never had written an article or anything in her life?

Clenching her jaw tightly, Andy rode for the last few minutes absorbed in the same train of thoughts, repeating those words in her head multiple times. Who the Hell did she reckon she was, and why was she under the impression that she had any right whatsoever to believe she knew everything better? Selecting and criticizing stuff was always easier than doing it yourself, wasn't it?

As she stepped from the subway and took the stairs to the busy street, she walked the last bit to _Life Today_ , recalling how very scared she had been when going down these very same stairs the last time: of losing her job or being told her burgeoning career was all over before it had really begun. Miranda's reasons for having brunch together –– if you could call it that still since no food had been involved –– certainly hadn't matched her expectations, and maybe, just maybe, she should just be glad it hadn't been what she had feared… or at least Andy hoped not. Whereas Miranda had always been surprising, she had always been very to the point in all she did as well. She would just have to rely on that straightforwardness now.

It hadn't left her doubting her abilities as a writer, though. It maybe would have, had she not momentarily returned to her earlier misconception that the two of them were not so different as Andy thought. She had not lied when she had said she never wanted to be like Miranda.

She had lied a little bit when she had said she didn't want to be famous. Of course, for the most part she did not need all that glamour or even want it, but secretly every writer hoped to be appreciated by the larger public one day, she assumed. The praise from others at work and feedback from the readers regularly helped make her day. She liked to be appreciated for what she did, just like everyone else. A Pullitzer had always been one of her youthful dreams, but she knew that was still far away… and the stress of having one to feel successful had waned off already, too.

Trying to get the fake smile steady and just a tad more sincere, Andy walked into the tall building where _Life Today_ rented the fourth floor. By the time the lift dinged at her destination, she hoped that she had been half-successful at least.

She nodded kindly at Leyla as she passed the receptionist and saw John sitting at his desk, talking on the phone, as she walked to hers. He caught her gaze over the edge of his laptop, [-and she watched as his eyes momentarily widened. Her brow gently furrowed, as John seemed to talk hastily into the receiver, as if he wanted to get rid of the person on the other end as soon as possible. She halted by her office door as he made a gesture with his hand that she interpreted to mean 'wait', and soon enough he had thrown the phone down and hurried to meet her. "So, what did she have to say for herself?"

"She said that we're more alike than I thought, and that if I ever want to get somewhere in life as a writer, I'll have to take risks…" Andy replied in a tone that was much less angry than it had been. She assumed that most of her anger had been already vented, even if only in her head, while on the way back to _Life Today_.

"You and the Dragon Lady are alike in some way? Right…" John replied, his tone not sarcastic or joking. "Anyhow, so she didn't threaten to end your career as you feared after all?"

Her smile became more sincere at that. "No," Andy said.

"Good, because I got an invitation from the Michaelsons to attend a get-together this Friday night. A lot of New York's finest magazine editors will definitely be there, I gather. Linda is never really interested in the opportunity to go to a red carpet event, or even the smaller ones. She likes to stay at home with our children instead –– she's supportive enough while never having wanted to be in the spotlight. So, since your job isn't threatened and unless you already have plans on Friday, I was hoping that you would maybe join me there. If you'd like to, of course."

"Err, John, I don't believe that they expect you to show up with your writer-in-chief."

John just shrugged his shoulders. "So what?" he said. "You're basically my right hand here, and I doubt that many of the guests will take their partners, unless those partners are involved in the business somehow themselves. It will be an opportunity for us both to meet new faces –– of course without encouraging you to go elsewhere with your talent!"

At that, Andy laughed and this time, it was sincere indeed. "All right," she agreed, nodding to emphasize what she said. "You can count on me this Friday, as long as you don't make me study two thick folders of guest names and recite them from the top of my head!"

She only realized later the reason for his confused look as she slipped into her office and sat down behind her desk. She would really have to tell him later how Miranda had demanded that of her assistants, and make him promise never to do that, no matter what or how successful they ever got with _Life Today._ She might just die.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 (Friday, April 13, 2007)

The days until Friday slipped by unreasonably fast, with so many articles to read through from Erica and Robert and some of her own to write as well of course. There was always something to read or write at _Life Today_ –– although she suspected that to be the case at other magazines, too, though. She had certainly seen stress reach its peaks at _Runway_ over articles. As the positive reactions flowed in, coupled with very little negative mail, they realised there was no real point to changing. They didn't have an issue with it, and apparently neither did the public. After all, who or what could please everyone anyway? Harry Potter was a prime example of this mind-set; no matter how many millions of copies sold, it was never going to be universally loved.

The readers had actually reacted very well to Andy's article about 'Women at the Top of the Chain', as John had anticipated. He had come in every morning with new praise on that one, though most had come on the day right after the issue had been published. That was nothing unusual, though. A few of the more positive comments had suggested maybe more on the matter in future issues as well.

Andy and John had arrived half an hour ago at the small party. Only a few others had been there by then; most of the guests had arrived between then and now.

Andy had talked to a few 'new faces', but had soon extracted herself from the circle of talkers, now sitting at a table to the side and sipping from a glass of undoubtedly very expensive Champagne. She couldn't really taste the difference most of the time, truth be told. She had come across a great many of the faces she had seen as Miranda's assistant, recalled some of their names even –– though, of course, she never addressed anyone personally. It would have felt… unnatural. Two of them, though, had reminded her of Paris, and from there she had had enough of the party. She wondered secretly how long she would have to stay so as not to make her leaving look suspicious or too noticeable.

She dragged her gaze to a group of gentlemen further ahead and noticed new guests arriving, but one in particular caught her attention. Of course, she should have known Miranda Priestly was going to be there. She hadn't thought of it thus far, though… leaving her mildly surprised at her appearance. The long, satiny dark blue dress she wore was clinging to her figure in all the right ways, while the pearl drop earrings and matching necklace shimmered brilliantly from the warm light at the ceiling. Of course, she looked _perfect_ , just as Miranda Priestly always did, especially at such parties. At that certain realization, Andy wanted to leave more than ever. Two lots of Miranda in less than a week was a bit too much. It wasn't like she felt like she fit in there anyway.

It would definitely look suspicious if she left right after Miranda Priestly's arrival, though… so she chose to stay for the time being. She would remain a bit longer; have to tolerate all the glamour for a little while more. She uneasily suppressed the urge to take off and look for a bathroom to hide in until it would be deemed a reasonable enough time to leave and not draw any attention to herself. Instead, she remained sitting on the side. Lucky for her then, more of the guests began to join her there. Some had taken the liberty to taste the food that was offered on a long buffet table at the far end of the room, there for everyone to take what they wished and in whatever quantity. That seldom happened at these sorts of parties, but Andy could definitely see the benefits. That way, no one was forced to eat something they didn't like. Since Miranda's arrival there, any surge of hunger or interest in what was offered to eat had left her, though. The mere thought of having something to eat now… The stress levels the woman caused, the anxiety, made calories burn right off from a person… that's if you had wanted to eat to begin with, or had time to do so when you worked at _Runway._ Miranda Priestly had never cared to include time to eat for her workers.

Andy watched with interest as a perfect-looking Miranda made some small conversation, glad that she wasn't being noticed… glad that she wasn't the girl at her side anymore, although strangely Miranda was alone this time. Gazing down at her tiny silver watch, Andy decided she could most likely leave without causing much fuss and stood, trying not to be too noticeable in any way, as she crossed the room to where John stood. She focused on him only and not on the others who might be following her with their eyes. She found it helped to shut the rest of the world off –– or at least tried to.

The conversation in which John have been involved for the last few minutes ended just as Andy approached, and she hoped it didn't have anything to do with her. He smiled at his conversational partner kindly and earned a small smile back. The elderly greying man in question nodded politely at Andy, before moving away to talk to another acquaintance. As he began a new conversation with the small woman that Andy guessed to be in her mid-fifties with wild red hair, John turned to her and smiled. "Have you tasted the food?" he wondered. "I've tried one of those little sandwiches there and they taste as good as they look!"

"No, I haven't, I'm not… very hungry," Andy admitted, although she said no word whatsoever about the reason why. She fleetingly wondered if seeing Miranda from now on would always have this effect on her, and she definitely hoped not. Surely, it would most likely fade as the memory of the meeting on Tuesday had, she tried reassuring herself.

The Editor-in-Chief's eyes suddenly grew worried. "Are you all right?" he asked, thinking she maybe was a little paler than before. He really hoped she wasn't coming down with anything now… and not only because of the current work load at _Life Today._

"Yeah, I am," Andy said, but she didn't know if it was a lie or not. "I'm just a little tired, and I believe I better go home now and get a few hours sleep. This week has been tumultuous, to say the least."

John nodded, seemingly not quite convinced. "Okay, if you're sure…" he said. "I'll see you at the office then."

"Yes, you will," Andy assured him. "Enjoy the rest of your evening –– both the company of the other guests and more of those sandwiches." She laughed at the smile that appeared on John's face at her comment and nodded one last time in goodbye, before turning around and walking straight into the woman she had deliberately been trying to avoid for most of the evening. Neither woman said a word, and Andy watched as Miranda's eyes slid down from her face to her not so very high heeled shoes and then slowly back up again, thoroughly criticizing her appearance as she had that one time at _Runway_ when she had mistakenly worn that shorter dress and longer vest. Her outfit tonight was slightly less casual than normal. Her hair was loosely pinned in a bun by her own hand, while her makeup was sober and certainly not immaculate, but she had put in a little effort.

The shiny emerald green and straight knee-length dress she wore was a common design, with spaghetti straps resting against her collarbones and a slight waterfall neck. With the exception of a thin silver watch and hoops in her ears, there was no jewelry to be seen. She was, of course, much less impressive than Miranda to look at, but that would nearly always be the case. As Miranda's eyes searched her face again, they looked into each other's eyes for a long moment in which Andy's heartbeat immediately elevated to such a level where she thought it would jump straight from her chest. Then… Miranda smiled, almost imperceptibly, but it was a definite smile nonetheless. "Good night, Andrea," she said, but somehow it held no tone of goodbye.

Andy swallowed, opening her mouth wanting to reply but not actually regaining speech at first. Miranda seemed oddly amused rather than annoyed at this. "Good night, Miranda," she finally managed and tried not to consider how strained and even breathless her voice had sounded. She would stop at the bathrooms and then go straight home before she made more of a fool of herself than she already had. How the Hell did Miranda have that ability to make her look so… well, dumb? Why the Hell couldn't she have left her alone?

By the time Andy left the warmth of the building behind her and exchanged it for the cool New York night air, she still hadn't found an answer to the question which she had posed herself, and by this point she knew that she most likely never would.

Carefully walking down the steps to the curb, Andy tightened her poncho coat tighter around her against the wind that seemed to gather strength with every second that passed, ruffling through her hair and already causing some of her bobby pins to loosen. Looking to the side, Andy saw a seemingly unoccupied taxi and lifted her arm, but the yellow cab didn't slow down even a little for her. The driver most likely hadn't even noticed her there. Sometimes it was a gift not to be noticed and at other times, like these, it could be incredibly annoying. She highly doubted the car wouldn't have stopped for most of the other guests. For instance, Miranda Priestly…. not that she or any of the other more famous guests would ever degrade themselves to the point of actually using public transport.

Lowering her arm again, Andy sighed. She would just have to wait for another cab then. Why not? She had no one waiting at home anyway… not anymore; if she could consider the few times Nate had stayed up as 'waiting'. Especially near the end, he had often already gone to bed when she arrived home. She wasn't sure if she could really blame him for that, though.

As she shifted her weight from one foot to the other in the coldness of the night –– for the thin nylon stockings which she wore didn't offer much warmth ––she looked from one end of the street to the other and saw Miranda's driver pull up to the curb. Of course, Miranda never stayed long at such parties; she considered fifteen minutes to be enough of an appearance.

Not long after that, she saw Miranda approach, her ridiculously high heels clacking on the large concrete steps. She followed her inconspicuously with her eyes as Roy exited the car and rounded it to open the passenger door for the Dragon Lady. Right before she slid into the car, however, she turned slightly and looked over her shoulder at Andy, making a small motion with her head towards the car. Andy felt the breath leave her lungs. She had been caught gazing, and Miranda did not much like to be observed that closely, unless maybe for a few seconds at her arrival somewhere. She couldn't mean what Andy thought she meant by that gesture, surely?

A look of irritation passed over her features at Andy's passiveness, she saw from afar. She wondered what the matter was this time, when Miranda added with 'slight' annoyance, "I won't offer again, Andrea," as she slid into the car. Andy's gaze connected fleetingly with Roy's, and she tried to convey the confusion she felt. He shook his head and slightly shrugged his shoulders. He couldn't answer her either. So remembering how much Miranda disliked not being listened to and to be kept waiting, Andy hurried ahead to the door on the other side as Roy gently closed Miranda's –– she severely disliked doors being shut loudly, too –– and rounded the car again to the driver's side. She moved quickly, trying not to slow her down too much. Miranda hated to be slowed down as well. So that begged the question, why was she doing this? Was it only pity?

The second her door closed, Roy pulled away from the curb and began on his way. "Drop Andrea off at home after you have taken me back," Miranda commanded. There was nothing more –– not that Roy or Andy would ever have expected there to be. Their gazes connected again momentarily in the rearview mirror, both really looking as surprised as the other.

The rest of the ride continued in silence, neither of them saying a word. Andy didn't believe either had expected or wanted it to be any different –– especially not Miranda, who was famously known to dislike chitchat. She caught herself wondering if she were different with her daughters or other family members that Andy didn't know of; if Miranda had been different in her three marriages. The brief part of the conversation between Miranda and Stephen that Andy had overheard one night didn't exactly support that theory.

Was Miranda different personally; could she be any different? She caught herself wondering if Miranda had been raised in a happy home, had she had the same kind of bond as Andy had had –– partially even still had –– with her mother and father. Or had she been raised like her daughters? Had her mother and father been married and then remarried often, too? She didn't know very much about Miranda, she found. Was there anyone who knew more about her or did she keep most of her secrets to herself?

As the car halted by Miranda's luxurious townhouse, Andy finally turned to her after having looked from the window for the majority of the ride. She watched as Miranda effortlessly unbuckled with those perfectly manicured hands, adorned by perfectly manicured nails. "Uhm, I appreciate…"

Miranda said nothing. She just eyed her intently, making Andy stutter into silence. Then she nodded curtly and left the silver Mercedes. Andy was grateful. She figured this was most likely more than most got.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Andy allowed herself to fall down upon the bed with a deep sigh, gazing at the ceiling in complete silence. She had thought it through a hundred times or more already, but still she could just not pinpoint the reason why Miranda Priestly had shown such an although admittedly brief bout of kindness to her ex-second assistant. Especially since they had not parted on the best of terms when she had quit working at _Runway_ , and then there was the brunch.

Shaking her head at her own helplessness and being unable to pinpoint the cause of that feeling as well, Andy rolled onto her left side and got on all fours, padding further up to the top of the bed, pushing the covers down and moving under them in a more than awkward fashion. She still hadn't been able to tell if Miranda Priestly had or hadn't been pissed off over her article in any way. To Andy, it had seemed like an excuse for the Dragon Lady to make fun of her, right to her face. Interpreting it another way, though, it had almost seemed like advice –– whatever that could mean for Miranda Priestly. That last possibility seemed too unlike Miranda to be true really, yet…

Anyway, why had she come to tell her personally? Had she just wanted to see the look of horror on Andy's face and feed off it for months to come? Most curiously, why had she invited Andy to sit with her in the back of the car tonight? Was there an underlying reason she wasn't getting in any way? Miranda Priestly had a weird way of making her feel incredibly insecure and stupid, after all, she never did anything without a reason –– most of all one that was not obvious to her environment. They were intricate and often illogical to anyone else but her. When hunger announced itself to Miranda, she ate; and when thirst did, she had some water or something stronger. When she had to use the bathroom, she did. However, that was about all that was logical and easy for Miranda, Andy assumed. Sleeping when tired certainly didn't seem like Miranda. She remembered wondering if she had even half of the advised eight hours of sleep at all when she had worked for the elder woman at _Runway_. She certainly didn't give either the first or second assistant a lot of respite –– ever. She wondered how the new second 'Emily' must be holding on; wondered how many had passed after her already in these few months. She doubted whether the one who had immediately replaced her worked there still.

Andy had never known for how long Emily had worked with Miranda prior to being made first assistant, but she had often found herself wondering if any other assistant had ever worked there long enough to come close to replacing Emily Charlton; how long she herself had had to work there prior to being promoted to that revered position. Emily _was_ motivated, at least…

She reached for the pillow beside her with a groan and dragged it slowly over her head, holding it down with both hands as she lay on her belly. She sighed after a couple of minutes, flinging the fluffy pillow away and pulling herself up on her hands and knees so it really looked like she was about to do push-ups in bed. No, she definitely couldn't go to sleep without brushing her teeth first. As she ran her tongue over them, she could feel the layer of uncleanliness, and… no.

Crawling to the edge of the bed once more and getting to her feet, Andy Sachs stood, moving to the bathroom to get her yucky-feeling teeth brushed. She had come in, confusion the main thing that was going through her head, and had stripped to her underwear, leaving her clothes to linger where she had taken them off to be gathered the next morning and thrown in the hamper. She had undone her hair, letting the clips just fall carelessly to the wooden floor with little sharp pings, to join her clothes and shoes, and had moved to the bed.

She had just been sitting beside Miranda Priestly in the backseat of the woman's silver Mercedes; had been driven home in it even. She had felt very sober in comparison to the epitome of all perfection that Miranda Priestly was. It could both encourage her to try harder, or to just not try at all anymore. She had opted for the latter tonight, wanting to just sleep –– the most effective way Andy knew to give her poor, churning mind a rest for the time being at least.

Squeezing the last little bit of toothpaste from the tube onto her toothbrush, she swore under her breath. Damn. She had forgotten to get some more while at the new supermarket at the corner of the street. Andy had known there was something she had forgotten, but, of course, she hadn't realized what until now. That was the disadvantage of not taking a shopping list, she guessed. Shopping lists were always useless to her anyway. Some used them to make sure that they wouldn't forget anything. Andy… well; when she was in a store and something looked rather nice or handy, she bought it anyway, whether it was on her list or not. She regularly bought a bottle more than needed, or bought this instead of that because of the cost or the popularity. Therefore, though she could see the many advantages for others, she thought that shopping lists were just a waste of time for herself.

Switching on her electric toothbrush, she vowed she would go by the store the next morning, right as soon as she woke up. With a little bit of luck, she could force one last squeeze from the tube before leaving. Her eyes thoughtfully fell upon the flattened tube, and she caught herself wondering over the type of toothpaste Miranda might use. Her even, slightly pointed teeth always shone a bright white. Artificially bleached, she assumed. Nevertheless, she still wondered –– it was most likely not the same as she was using, bought only because of the many ads she had seen at bus stops and all.

The toothbrush buzzed slightly; two minutes had passed. Andy turned it off, bending over the sink and spitting the toothpaste down the plug hole, before turning on the tap, rinsing her mouth and letting the water run over her toothbrush, cleaning it for its next use.

As she looked into the mirror, she smiled wide and scrutinized her teeth. She thought they were a little yellow –– compared to Miranda's, of course, they appeared absolutely terrible. Maybe she should one day soon look into bleaching, too… It couldn't be that ridiculously expensive, could it? A lot of women who had nice teeth had had them bleached in order to get them like that, she knew.

Irritably, Andy threw her towel on the rack again –– the one she had used to wipe away the remaining toothpaste and water from her closed mouth and chin. Why, when they obviously were like night and day, did she keep comparing herself to that Dragon Lady? They were so different! Switching off the light in the little bathroom, she stumbled over to the bed again with heavy footsteps. Those words Miranda Priestly had spoken back in Paris suddenly rushed right through her mind once more. She had lost count now of the many times they had since they had first left the mouth of the woman she never wanted to be like; that had been her first thought when she had said them. Who wanted to be so cold? It definitely hadn't been that bad in months, though –– definitely not. It really was becoming ominously regular now. Somehow, so were her encounters with Miranda Priestly herself…

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

  
My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 (Tuesday, April 17, 2007)

"Andy! You've recuperated some sleep then?"

"What?" Andy said surprised, hearing the familiar voice from behind her while waiting for the lift to arrive. She turned slightly to look at her superior, only just managing to move a hand over her mouth to hide her yawn and squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. Oh no, she had definitely not recuperated anything, let alone _sleep_. Every night was disrupted by her waking a couple of times, only to fall asleep again half an hour later –– if she was lucky. Mostly, she was more awake than actually asleep while in her bed.

"It sure seems not," John Englund said, brow furrowing with more than mild concern. "Maybe you should go home early today, too," he suggested, walking over to where she stood. As he came to a halt beside his writer-in-chief, the ding of the elevator sounded. Andy, seemingly half-disoriented, moved in after him, watched as John pushed the button to the floor of _Life Today._

"I'll be fine," she said, once the metal doors slid shut again. "I had a vitamin deficiency when I was at university a few times and had to take some pills. I was always tired then as well, so I'm guessing that this is the same." As she said it, a lack of vitamins seemed possible enough. No matter how many vegetables or fruit she ate, she had always had a predisposition for lacking vitamins –– mostly iron, which was ridiculous considering how much iron-rich sea food and vegetables she got through. Actually, she ate more fresh fish and sea food than meat. If only she hadn't known _who_ rather than _what_ had been responsible for her lack of sleep instead… Nonetheless, she said, "I'll see about a visit to my doctor to have my bloods checked later this week. It really has been a while since my last check-up." As she said it, she knew that she meant it and resolved to indeed make a doctor's appointment for later that business week. She had little to fear after all.

With being prone to vitamin deficiency, she found it wasn't that bad to have your bloods checked regularly. At least, Andy reasoned, there were little surprises she could expect there. For example, her being with child was practically impossible. The celibacy she had lived in for the past sixth months would have made it very hard to be expecting. Andy was overall quite healthy, too, although maybe the doctor could give her some pills to sleep, if needed. She would not say anything at all about the woman who succeeded in keeping her awake so many times, or he might just tell her to seek professional psychological help instead. She could already imagine how that conversation would go. No, she would not speak of Miranda Priestly to her doctor when she had her blood tests. She wouldn't speak of Miranda at all to him, nor to anyone else. Imagine her talking about Miranda to John or her mother or father. The mere thought was ridiculous. She could hear her mother share her worries already, that she was afraid Andy had suffered some kind of trauma at _Runway_. She might have laughed, for it really was a comical thought –– if only she just wasn't so exhausted, so drained…

Without any warning at all, the elevator stopped between the last two floors. If she had paid any attention, she might have already noticed the lift travelling much slower today than usual. Andy's mind had been occupied enough, though. Her face morphed from initial wonder to disbelief and slight panic, and Andy looked to John, who seemed just as surprised himself. She was slightly claustrophobic, her mindset prone to panic, too. Oh no. No, no, no.

John and she waited a few more seconds in silence, in case the lift would shoot into action once more by itself. It didn't, though; the elevator didn't move even one inch either up or even down. Andy already felt her hands getting rather clammy. John just shook his head, sighing as he pushed the alarm button for five seconds with his thumb, as instructed by a poster on the wall, in case of unexpected technical issues.

"Great," Andy said, whimpering slightly.

"No worries," John replied. "You're not claustrophobic, are you?"

"A little…" Andy admitted in a small voice.

"Try not to panic now," he offered. "I'm sure that we'll be freed soon enough."

Silence stretched on between the two of them for the next couple of minutes, their prison seemingly uninterested in releasing them just yet, and with no sound to indicate that help was on its way. Silence was uncommon between the two, and slowly, it was becoming uncomfortable… when John suddenly said, "I've had a lot more great commentary on the article 'Women at the Top of the Chain'. I've heard from several people that it was a refreshing take on business. Some even agreed with our readers, too… so I have considered their suggestions."

"Oh?" Andy wondered, finally redirecting her gaze to him from her leather boots. Why not? She was supposed to be working at her desk now anyway. They were caught in the elevator at _Life Today_ , and John, her boss and colleague, was there with her. Why not have their usual chitchat there? She didn't know whether to be annoyed or actually okay with it. They couldn't exactly do much else, could they? Why would she mind at all? It might take her mind off the fact they were trapped in a small metal box –– maybe.

John nodded. "I've received several requests from readers to dig deeper into the Miranda Priestly story," he said, leaning against a wall of the halted elevator, watching her and pausing for a moment. "Curiosity from several sides sure seems to have been piqued since your article. Therefore, there's no doubt that you will be the one to write the requested sequel piece, too. You're a very good writer."

Andy's mouth opened without any sound leaving it. "I––" Apart from the fact that she was temporarily (hopefully) trapped in a metal box between two floors –– a box of just two meters by two –– Andy felt thrown off guard, felt… well, trapped from every direction. "I'm not sure…"

"You said that when the suggestion came to write that first article," John reminded her.

"John, I've said what I really wanted to say. I can't…"

"Well, I'll hope that you going back there for a few days will aid you in finding inspiration then." He smiled, whereas she didn't… _at all_.

"I–– WHAT?" she cried. "I am going back to _Runway_?"

"Please relax," John said and laughed lightly. "You're not going to work there. You're just going back to observe her for a couple of days, like anyone else with no knowledge of a subject would –– to pique your inspiration. We'll have to see when it best fits heryou're your schedule, though. That rough inside story, that's what our readers want. I'm sure you can do it. Miranda Priestly herself agreed to it, when it came to discussion last Friday."

"You… Why didn't you say anything until now?"

Then suddenly, the lift was set into motion, continuing on its way up to the floor they needed as if nothing had happened, as if it had only paused on its climb to let other people in.

"About time, too!" John exclaimed. _Ding._ "The air was getting thin… I'll get it!" he said and left the small metal box with his typical long, fast paced strides across the floor.

She didn't hear the sound of the telephone John immediately ran to get; instead, she heard white noise buzzing in her ear and felt like she couldn't catch her breath, despite there being far more air now than there had been while they were trapped within the elevator.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 (Thursday, April 19, 2007)

She couldn't say why the big sign had attracted her that night –– a sign she walked past so many times without paying any attention to it at all. In fact, she wasn't even much of a fast food eater.

She didn't know why suddenly she had chosen to walk home either, rather than go by subway. She had just felt like she needed some air, needed to calm down. Maybe the cool night air blowing in Andy's face would do her good. While on the way, she had considered the thought of a double cheeseburger at McDonald's and had concluded that might do her some good, too. Maybe it was a hidden act of rebellion, given _Runway_ and thus Miranda Priestly were so opposed to fast food.

Seemingly a lot of other people had thought a double cheeseburger or something else equally bad would actually do them good, given the busyness there. As she looked about her, she could see the typical fast food eaters: mostly lonely older men or women, who had felt like 'dining out' instead of cooking for one, and groups of teenagers. She remembered those times when taking each other to McDonald's after a film was the most awesome thing possible. A soft smile passed Andy's features at the long past foolishness. Oh, yes… she was long past that period in her life. She sometimes really missed it, though –– life had been so much easier then.

As she looked at the customers while waiting to order, she could pinpoint two or three young couples like that. Two of them were obviously an 'item' –– their behavior told her. They were sitting close, awkwardly smiling at each other, touching each other's hands and fingers and whatever seemed even _remotely_ acceptable. The third couple wasn't doing anything of that. They seemed to be a tad younger anyway –– maybe they were still shy. Maybe this was their first date even?

The sound of her cell phone, audible enough despite being muffled, brought her from the faraway memories. She hurriedly reached for her handbag, tried fishing for the buzzing thing… but didn't manage to get a hold of it at once. Of course, by the time she had caught it and pulled it out, it had stopped ringing and showed one missed call from her home phone in Cincinnati. She sighed; she would call her parents back as soon as she got home.

Andy was just stuffing her cell phone away when her gaze fell upon two red headed girls, sitting in a booth in the far corner, accompanied by a woman Andy guessed to be close to her in age, maybe a bit younger. Andy's view was mostly blocked by other patrons, but she thought that the two girls looked like Cassidy and Caroline, Miranda's twin daughters… ridiculously so. She couldn't be certain, though. And now that they had turned around she couldn't see anything of them except their red hair. She couldn't even be sure if they were definitely twins or sisters… or even family at all. The red hair was very alike for them not to be, though. Squinting, she tried to see more by focusing on their reflection in the window, beside which they were both seated, the woman Andy guessed to be their nanny on the other side.

She didn't look like the nanny they had had while Andy worked for _Runway_ and Miranda. The long dark hair was a little similar she supposed, but somehow Andy didn't believe it to be Cara. It wouldn't actually be a surprise to know they had someone else, though she had rarely heard the Dragon Lady speak even one bad word about the young woman. However, they were talking about Miranda Priestly… who didn't doubt for even a second to fire someone who didn't fit the strict criteria she posed in her professional life. Andy was certain that it must stretch further into her personal one. Miranda Priestly wanted only the best for Cassidy and Caroline, she knew… and while it was a known fact that children deal better with as little change as possible, if Cara hadn't pleased her anymore, then she would have been fired no ifs, buts or maybes about it. After all, the children had had three father figures, too… maybe even number four in the meantime number four? Somehow, the mere thought of Miranda being with another man made her skin crawl.

If they were indeed the ginger-haired twin daughters of Miranda Priestly, Andy guessed she should not at all be surprised that Miranda wasn't joining them. The mere thought of Miranda Priestly eating a double cheeseburger or even a healthy salad at a fast food restaurant…

"Miss!"

Andy turned, moving to the counter as the employee eyed her in slight annoyance –– as if she had already called a fair few times. Andy stepped closer until she leaned against the counter and gave the female staff member her best apologetic smile. "Sorry," she said. "I, uhm… I would like to have a double cheeseburger with small French fries please. Takeaway," she added, before the employee could ask.

"That's $2.39 in total," the woman whose name badge suggested she was called Kathryn said, using a tone most people who worked in a fast food restaurant used: mechanical and obviously disinterested.

As the young woman hurried about to get the two items Andy had asked for and packed both in a brown paper bag, Andy reached for her wallet to retrieve the money. Throwing a ruffled two dollar bill on the glossy counter and a fifty cent coin which took more than a second to find, she told Kathryn to just keep the change, smiled one last time before taking the paper bag with the ordered food and turned to leave. While she walked to the exit, she tried to look over the heads of the customers to check whether maybe she could see the girls better now. As she did so, however, she paid no attention at all to where she was walking…

Who could blame her, though? This was the first time Andy had thought about anything else but the new article that had been assigned to her the day prior. Erica, Robert and she had been running through all the possible stories to do next week, so that she could be free to temporarily work at _Runway_ from Monday to Thursday, in hopes to find inspiration for the new, in-depth piece. The three had distributed the articles and had discussed who would do what and for when, so that Andy could have time to read through them all not to fall behind on the next issue. Curiously enough, although Andy had now finally managed to focus on something else, it still had to do with Miranda Priestly.

As she focused on getting a slightly better look at the two ginger girls, she failed to see the door was closer than she would have guessed and ran right into it. Staggering back, she looked at the tall glass door shocked and offended –– as if it had been its fault that she had run into it and not at all hers, wondering who had set this ridiculous thing in her way. She soon gathered her senses, though… looking at all the people nearby, eyeing her as if she was the most stupid creature they ever had laid eyes upon. She couldn't blame them. Feeling the blush rise in her cheeks, she pushed the door open and stepped into the night air once more. No, they weren't so mistaken. After all… who really ran into a glass door like that, full force? She had come in through it, dear heavens! How could she have forgotten; how could she have miscalculated that way? Oh dear. Oh gosh. Oh… Why did she always have to make such a fool of herself?

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 (Friday, April 20, 2007)

Andy nodded once she, Erica and Robert had had one last run through of the schedule late that Friday afternoon –– it all looked infallible. Andy Sachs, writer-in-chief of _Life Today_ , could be missed for four days. Somehow, the fact that it was all coming together this nicely, just made her feel more anxious. There was no possible running any longer –– her duties as a writer-in-chief could not serve as an excuse anymore for her not to go to _Runway_. She never could have imagined that that first article would have been such a success. Andy had seriously thought her career might be over after that even.

Her intense fear had become reality when the Dragon Lady had called John. She would have liked it much better, had Miranda not got involved at all, but then it could have gone a lot worse, too. It just confused the young woman… a lot. If she hadn't known then how to react to Miranda, then she _definitely_ didn't know any better after that collision at the party and being allowed to ride home with her, in the backseat of the expensive silver Mercedes. She caught herself more than ever letting the woman dominate her mind. She wasn't _just_ occupying it; she was actually dominating it.

"Is everything settled then?" John Englund's voice sounded. All three writers eyed the Editor-in-Chief at once, redirecting their gazes to the door where their boss was leaning into the office, with a small smile on his face.

As both other writers focused on Andy, she felt compelled to answer for them all. "Yes," she said. "All seems in order for my four day absence. I have passed the articles I had intended to do on to Erica and Robert according to their interests, and I shall read through them next weekend. I'll be occupied, but it will be worth it… I guess."

"Of course," John said, chuckling lightly and inclining his head for Andy to join him in the hallway. It seemed as if he wanted to continue the rest of the conversation just between themselves –– or maybe he just wanted to give her some last few pointers for Monday?

Andy stood, giving both Erica and Robert a last smile in case she wouldn't see them anymore before next week, and joined her superior in the hallway. John made a move to his office, and Andy followed him, wordlessly so. "I still can't entirely believe Miranda Priestly agreed to let me follow her for the next couple of days."

"Well, it is common knowledge that she's a rather tough lady, but what I've seen of her so far has never been bad. I reckon that she's tough at _Runway_ mainly because that's necessary, like you hinted at in your first article."

Andy nodded. "Well, I can't really say for sure, of course. I've never known her in another context aside from _Runway_."

John quietly held the door open for her, letting her enter his office first, before moving to the desk and sitting himself down on the desk chair, eyeing her carefully. He didn't invite her to sit down on the one opposite, so Andy suspected whatever this was wouldn't take long at all.

"You know," John spoke in a tone that somehow spoke of thoughtfulness. He leant further back in his chair as his eyes remained upon her. "A lot of the time, when you observe an organization or a group of people for the sake of an article, you risk that what you observe, phenomena or human beings, act differently than otherwise. People have an innate tendency to behave in a way more socially acceptable when observed, to try and hide the less likeable side of themselves. I've no doubt at all that Miranda Priestly couldn't care less, and that she'll be no less tough or 'absolutely impossible' as you might say. That's an advantage for sure. You won't have to take that into consideration as you observe, or as you write your article later."

"I've no doubt there either…" Andy muttered, and then recalled something that Miranda had said when they had their brief brunch encounter. _You should have learned by now that the gory details sell best._

"It gives us quite an advantage," he said. Then he took a breath, and his tone became less business-like as he trailed off topic. "So, do you have anything to do tonight? I don't tend to celebrate before I have a reason to, as of course the article shall still have to be accepted as well as your first was, but I believe we should have a toast on that first huge success and our good working relationship. You've been doing a great job here since the beginning, and then with this success… well, I believe it deserves a toast."

"I'm free tonight, and that sounds good. So yes…" She nodded.

"Good," John replied. "Chris and Mitchell already went home about an hour ago, so how about we finish a bit earlier today, and go straight from work?"

Andy nodded once again in agreement. She hadn't even seen either art designer leave. She must have been in the restroom when they did, because they usually came to wish her a nice weekend. Mitchell especially was a very sociable guy. She remembered how confused she had been when in her first week there, John had come in to inform her he was leaving the office for an hour or so and had asked her to make sure that Courtney found the bundle of files John had left on the designer's cluttered desk. Andy had eyed him rather strangely, not recalling any of her colleagues to have introduced themselves as Courtney. The only other girls she had met were Erica and Leyla and, of course, Tiffany from the Sales department and she had only met her the once.

She had confessed her confusion to John, upon which he had said he meant Courtney Mitchell, the guy that had been hired for Art Design about a month before her. Then she had remembered him, of course. The man had introduced himself with his last name only, and after that incident, she immediately knew the reason why. As a matter of fact, from there, John had come to call him by last name, too –– something he didn't usually do with his workers. He liked to address them all by their given name.

"That's fine," Andy said. "What time do you have in mind? I would like to know what I can still get to and what not."

John's gaze fleetingly moved to the huge clock hanging in the hallway through the glass doors of his office, pondering about her question for a moment. "What about… an hour and three quarters maybe? That would surely seem like an acceptable time to leave the office on a Friday evening. I'm ready for the weekend."

Andy glanced over her shoulder to check the current time, too. She thought to herself that it really would be a nicely timed Friday evening –– she wondered when she had left any earlier. She couldn't say that she minded, though. It had sure been a while since she had gone to celebrate anything. "Okay," she said, then smiled. "Everything is all set for next week, but I might be able to finish reading through one last article."

"Great. I'll see you later today." He smiled.

"Okay! You will!" Andy said, turning on her heels to leave and get the article about new sports for children done. In fact, it was already complete, but she wasn't really satisfied thus far – she still wanted to tweak a couple of paragraphs prior to sending it through to John. A few amended words here, a couple of sentences switched there, could make all the difference, and a mediocre article quickly became a first-rate one often enough.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 

"I believe I'll opt for a glass of white wine with this," Andy said. The waiter –– the same one who had come to hand them their menus to begin with –– nodded politely, accepting the closed menu, and turned to immediately notify the kitchen and get the desired glass of wine for Andy and a beer for John.

Somehow celebration had turned into plans for dinner while they walked from the skyscraper into town to find somewhere that looked nice for their particular purpose. The place hadn't seemed particularly crowded or deserted, while nice, soft music had drifted onto the street as they had stood pondering whether to enter the pub-come-restaurant or not. It hadn't looked overly fanciful nor shabby –– ideal for a couple of drinks and dinner as colleagues, they had both thought.

As Andy sat there with John, she realized what she had missed with Emily. Emily Charlton had always been very distant, never seeming to want anything to do with her at work, let alone aside from _Runway_ –– which she most likely wasted away with girls much skinnier than Andy; much more _fashionable_. After all, she had always chided Andy for not being daring enough in her way of dressing, that being fashionable didn't mean putting comfort above appearance. That was one of the things Andy still didn't seem to do very well with. She still somehow found herself opting for comfort over looks. She never wore something she didn't really feel good or remotely comfortable in, and she doubted that was ever going to change.

No, John Englund certainly didn't feel like a superior to her. He didn't make himself to be more than he really was. He was down to earth and very easy to talk to. The difference laid merely in function and the jobs tied to it –– and most likely in his paycheck, too –– but never in attitude. She liked that about him.

"It smells great here," Andy said. "If their food tastes only half as good, I'm going to leave here a happy customer."

"I agree."

Right when she wanted to open her mouth to say something again, the waiter arrived with their drinks order.

He had gone to deliver the other glasses on his tray before she had the chance to look at him, speak or even smile politely. So instead, Andy turned to John again, asking what she had wanted to ask before while reaching for her glass. "Linda didn't mind that you were going to be late?" she asked, taking a dignified sip and savoring the taste of the dry white on her tongue. The wine was a good one, for sure.

John's hand, which had moved to take hold of his beer, halted as the man eyed her. His fingers slowly retracted as his face became more pained. "I, ah… Linda and I are getting a divorce," he said.

"Oh no!" Andy exclaimed, setting her wine glass down quickly in shock. "I had no idea at all. I thought that you were a good couple…" Andy trailed off. That was just how Andy had thought of herself and Nate, to the point where he had eventually gone to sleep on a mutual buddy's couch for a few weeks, and she had been none the wiser.

"We were," John said. "After our second was born last year, she… sank into post-natal depression. That was a hard time then. She went to a counselor, received pills and slowly, she began to see the light at the end of the tunnel once again. I was working from home more often, but as her health got better again, I began working more at the company again, too. We managed, I thought. Then two weeks ago, Linda said she couldn't do it any longer, that she knew what she got into when we married and chose to have children, but that it proved to be more challenging than she had thought –– the difference between having one and having two of them. I offered to hire someone to help with the children, or work from home more often again as I had done, but…" He sighed, shaking his head sadly. "She was right in assuming it wouldn't make me happy at all. I like to be involved in it… smell the adrenaline of publishing and…"

"I'm sorry, John," Andy repeated.

"Me, too," he said. "We've been together since the last year of high school, just like in the movies… But like so many of those 'ideals', in reality it had come to an end as well."

"Don't you see you two getting back together anytime in the future?" Andy wondered. Of course, she didn't have children, so she couldn't say how difficult or not it was to have them. She had done some babysitting while at college, yes… but they were ultimately another's children. She wished she could somehow help him, though she knew that she could do very little.

John's head shook, and finally, he took a swig of his beer. "No," he said. "She's moving to her hometown again this weekend. Her mother can help her with the children, and that will give her the space she needs. Before long, she'll talk about making the divorce final, and I'll be a single man again who rarely gets to see his children. I don't believe spending time back with her mother will make her reverse the feelings she has regarding our marriage."

They remained in silence for a little while, as Andy absorbed what he had just said. "That's why you took me with you to the party instead of Linda," Andy finally said.

"Partially, yes," John admitted. "Now, could we talk about something else? I really just want to celebrate the fact that I hired you, and the last thing that I want is to burden you with my little issues. I––"

At that very second the waiter arrived with their ordered food, setting down the fish before Andy first. They did work fast, too! They smiled weakly at one another instead of saying anything more and dug into their delicious smelling food without much more than small talk between them, about… well, work.

As the pair left the restaurant less than two hours later, having had a few more drinks and shared a dessert, they both decided to come back again at a later date. The staff there were exceptionally kind, the service fast and the food delicious –– and all this for a reasonable cost; certainly much cheaper than either of them would have guessed.

"My apartment isn't very far from here. I believe I'll just walk the rest of the distance," Andy announced. "New York has something in the evening at this time of the year, when it isn't too cold or raining too heavily, don't you reckon?"

"I agree," John said, a smile passing his lips. He turned to his young writer-in-chief, and the very air between them suddenly seemed to change as the male and female eyed one another. "I'm really glad I hired you," he said in a warm, soft tone –– softer than she had ever heard from him before. It… tickled her. "You're a great writer and a really great person. There aren't a lot of women like you, and I've come to appreciate you very much –– _like_ you very much indeed."

Andy didn't know what to say. Her smile never faltered, though. "Well, eh… I err, I'm glad that I accepted that job offer at _Life Today_ , too."

As his lips touched hers in a gentle caress, Andy was glad to be saved from her rambling. A hundred thoughts or more ran through her mind as he began to move his lips against hers, but she couldn't do anything else but respond. She hadn't been kissed or found physical solace with anyone since Nate had left. She had missed being _appreciated_ , being _liked_. However, no matter how good she felt with him, this still was her superior, though. It would be like kissing Miranda Priestly had she still been working for her. She found herself wondering what it would be like. Would her lips really be as soft as they looked? Would she be a good enough kisser, too? Would she be good in bed? Would she be dominant in that area, too? The thought was ridiculous, though. She wasn't… _gay._ She fell for men only, didn't she? Even if she didn't, then Miranda was definitely straight. The thought of Miranda Priestly liking any woman at all, liking _her_ … was just laughable really. Miranda Priestly was the epitome of feminine, of _woman_ … She looked so terribly and utterly not gay.

John's hands fell to her slender waist as they both put some more fervor into the intensifying kiss. She could smell the alcohol on his breath and even her own, but she knew this had not come from loneliness or from being inebriated –– not from either side. This fact merely made her head swim more; the part that so warned her to stop was easily ignored for now.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

As the door to Andy's apartment fell into its lock behind her, she leaned against it and sank down on the floor, banging her head against it, chastising herself.

John Englund was a great guy, no doubt. She wasn't afraid that, if they would ever be in a relationship with one another, then it would become an unhappy one. She knew somehow it wouldn't. Mostly, he understood all that Nate never had about what a job like Andy's meant and what was often required from them. The kiss could have become so much more, and she was certain she would have enjoyed it and had few regrets –– definitely less than after that heated night with Christian. Her conscious and common sense had stopped her there, though.

As the kiss had got more heated, more intense, it had pushed them closer to a lack of breath and the need for a break, however brief. Andy had made use of it inconspicuously, having turned her head aside to tell him that she thought they should stop, taking a step back before eyeing him, a whispered apology on her pinkish lips. She had said she liked him very much as well, but she couldn't do it, given the reputation of romantic relationships between co-workers, let alone between workers and their superiors –– given how much critique it usually caused, and how soon it often ended. She hadn't wanted to give either of them a bad reputation, which could well backfire on _Life Today_ , and she hadn't wanted to throw herself into something that would most likely not have a reasonable chance of success. She had said John meant far too much now for it to become all awkward once the relationship reached its inevitable end. She had known she meant it the moment the words left her mouth. She hadn't wanted to throw away their great working relationship.

Andy hadn't even considered just one night between them. John already meant too much… He had never come across as that type anyway. She herself had had some one-nighters, though. Christian Thompson definitely hadn't been the first one, but she really hoped he would be one of the last. She was getting too old now for this, giving in to hormones and just getting off with no emotions involved. The girls who had gone to high school with her were now getting married, if they weren't already and were having children or considering them at least.

Dropping her legs flat on the floor of the hallway and unzipping her jacket when she felt herself getting warm, Andy sighed. She had wondered whether it would make a difference between them now at work, of course really hoping it wouldn't. He had just shaken his head at her then. John and she had parted soon after. Somehow, though, there had been a slight awkwardness as Andy bid him good night and turned to walk the rest of the way home –– but maybe it was a figment of her imagination. She furiously hoped that by the time she was at her desk at the company again, after her observation at _Runway_ , that all would be back to normal once more, prior to that little incident. Was that the term that should be used for it? What else, though… what term if not incident could be used for it?

Reaching down to loosen her shoes and then kicking them off, she really hoped that would be the case when she exchanged Elias-Clark for _Life Today_ again. What if not seeing each other for close to a week made it worse and things became awkward between them? Would they? cause the kindness, the ease, that had grown between them over the last six months to lessen or maybe disappear entirely? John and she shared a lot of the same ambitions and that had been a base for their collegiality and later companionship.

Putting her left hand flat upon the cold floor beside her and pushing herself upright, she found herself wondering whether the Editor-in-Chief had once had the ambition to have a child or more prior to having them, or if that had merely been his wife's, with him just agreeing? She had a rather hard time picturing someone who strived so much in his career to have a family and children all at once.

Pushing her shoes to a corner of the room and hanging her jacket on the peg, she wondered (unsurprisingly) if Miranda Priestly had once had the ambition to be a mother, if the twins were even really planned. When you saw the always strict Dragon Lady, you would never guess she had children if you didn't know of it in any way: neither in her appearance or mentality. Her body showed absolutely no signs of it at all, nor of her age with the exception of her gray-white hair, maybe. Few knew it to be artificially colored, though.

_Had_ Cassidy and Caroline been planned? If not, had they been wanted from the very beginning? Andy was intelligent enough to know that unplanned didn't necessarily mean unwanted or unwelcome. She had seen that from the first row when her father's sister found herself with child at age forty-two –– her first. Her aunt and uncle had had IVF a couple of times with the purpose of having a child with one another, the idea of adoption not what they really wanted. After many tries with IVF –– Andy couldn't even remember how many –– they had chosen just not to try anymore. Artificial insemination was all just too expensive to keep trying and keep getting hurt by the negative results over and over again. Her aunt especially had been heartbroken at first, but then she had learned to live with it. Andy had always guessed that she regretted it more than she let on to anyone or even herself. The couple had been shocked immensely when she had it confirmed that they were going to have a little one after all, having conceived naturally in the end. They had thought it was virtually impossible for them to procreate after their lot of bad luck, let alone without any medical aid.

The child had _definitely_ been unplanned, but it had nonetheless been oh so very welcome. The thought of not having the child had never crossed the mind of her aunt or her uncle, she knew –– not even when their new GP told them it might be riskier at her older age. Her godson would already turn eight years old in November, and she knew of few children who were wanted like him. Close to the end of the forty weeks, Andy's aunt had been forced rather often to lie down from either pain or exhaustion –– often both, Andy knew. Aiden was a happy and healthy boy now, though.

She sighed as she opened her wardrobe, looking for PJs after having dumped the ones of the previous night into the hamper. She thought of how long it had been since she last saw him. She had promised herself never to become the kind of godmother that the child never even saw with the exception of maybe once a year, and she sometimes feared that she had become exactly that. She sent him little cards and toys from New York sometimes, in addition to getting to hear little Aiden a couple of times a month on the phone.

She concluded that she should just keep focused on her career only for the time being, without adding a child into the mix already… aside from the fact that you usually needed a man to have children, in one way or another. Oh well, those were thoughts for later, though she couldn't say _when_ that was. _Later_.

Andy dragged herself to her bed in the end, deliberately alone –– like she had since the day Nate left her.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14 (Monday, April 23, 2007)

The following weekend flew by a lot faster than Andy Sachs had hoped. She was very glad to have made it to Elias-Clark without incident when she did, though. Really, it was nearly a miracle considering the nerves running through her body, in addition to her typical clumsiness. She wasn't hopeless yet, but still, Andy was a clumsy person.

Upon entering, she consciously forced her smile to remain on her lips. She didn't really know how she should feel here anymore. It reminded her terribly of her first day at _Runway_ in a great many ways, how she had been ever so unaware about fashion and its business. She hadn't actually been 'into it' for a little while either, not since leaving. She caught herself wondering if, in her few months' absence, how things might have changed. For starters, she wouldn't really be surprised to see a few new faces at _Runway_.

Altogether, she couldn't deny what she knew. There were some matters she was certain wouldn't have changed, and most likely never would. The stress that would immediately overtake her once she reached the seventeenth floor of _Runway_ , and the never wavering need to achieve the best and fastest, for instance. She had no doubt at all this was mainly because Miranda Priestly made everyone feel that way. As she stood there, waiting for the elevator to arrive, she could feel the anxiety already. That was something she hadn't forgotten about… could never forget either. She fleetingly wished to be that carefree once again as she waited, although she knew Elias-Clark would forever be associated with that anxiety. She wished that this had changed, had escaped the recesses of her mind already, but sadly no.

The sound of stilettos clacking on the shiny floor could be heard, and she recognized those steps without even having to look. Everyone around her seemed to collectively hold their breath, and that only confirmed her suspicions. Sure enough, as she looked up, she saw Minerva Priestly approach the elevator area, dressed in a long amber coat Andy had never seen before, and another fancy handbag delicately balanced on her forearm. Andy had long given up on being surprised over her collection of expensive coats and handbags, though. After just two weeks there, she had decided that counting them was a hopeless business, for she seemed to appear in a new coat and carry a new handbag every time Andy saw her.

Without giving her so much as a second look, Miranda passed by and walked into the elevator alone when it arrived just at the right moment. No one dared move over to join her, and neither did Andy. Oh, Andy remembered learning this the hard way, that Miranda Priestly liked to ride in the elevator by herself. She didn't like the chitchat that was bound to happen, or the fact it meant being crammed in a small, metal box with others who invaded her personal space. She couldn't imagine having been trapped in a lift with Miranda instead of John. She took a deep breath then, forcing herself not to let her mind wander to John. It would only distract her, and being distracted was a killer at _Runway_.

As she looked up, her eyes locked with Miranda Priestly's as she did the exact same, elegantly taking off her sunglasses. The weather wasn't exactly meant for sunglasses, but still. No one ever would dare mention that to her, the Dragon Lady herself. This time, the icy blue eyes remained on her face. She inclined her head slightly in a way that reminded the younger woman a lot of when she had invited into the back of the car that night after the get-together that she had attended with John. Somehow, just like back then, she found it hard to interpret. As Miranda slightly quirked her eyebrow at Andy's lack of action in a way not unfamiliar, Andy knew that she had meant it exactly as she had thought, both back then, and now. So she rushed ahead just when the door to the elevator began to close. "Oh!" she exclaimed. This wasn't beginning well. The first moment of their reunion had already turned into one of annoyance for Miranda.

She knew far better than to try some small conversation –– her time as a second assistant there had taught her that. The silence wasn't exactly comfortable, but it could certainly be worse.

The elevator dinged open on the floor _Runway_ occupied in the large Elias-Clark publishing house, and Andy couldn't stop her mouth from dropping open at how exactly like last year _Runway_ looked. Emily, who seemed to be in a hurried conversation over the telephone with someone, was still seated at the desk on the left. The other desk that she had occupied in her time there was now occupied by a rather petite blonde with cropped tousled hair that looked like it hadn't been combed for weeks, but most likely was considered fashionable by anyone else there but Andy. She hurriedly clacked after Miranda –– oh yes, she had dragged her heels from her shoe closet again along with her slightly more fashionable clothing for this particular occasion –– and she knew it would be a hectic day.

From the moment she had entered, Miranda began to rattle off a whole list of things the new girl needed to do. It had been very… _challenging_ while she had been her assistant, and just hearing it all even though she didn't have to act on it any longer still made her widen her eyes, her mind going haywire… She began to wonder again how she had ever managed to do all that stuff once upon a time. She doubted whether she could do] it again even if it wasn't necessary. Things were so different at _Life Today_. She suspected they were no more efficient in the end, but they definitely had a better working atmosphere. Whether that did result in 'better', she didn't quite know.

"…from Giambattista. I would like to have that confirmed; meaning yesterday rather than today or let alone tomorrow. That's all."

Andy followed the Dragon Lady into her office, ready to follow her throughout the day. They had four stops planned to check new collections before Miranda was going to dinner with Irv. Of course, she was not expected to join her there. It would just be an incredibly busy day ahead, hurrying from left to right, and back and forth. She would be expected to follow, but Miranda would most likely not care if she did not. She would go as she pleased and Andy was merely given the opportunity and allowance to accompany her on her trips. Her presence would not be given any attention whatsoever. Considering the fact that Miranda didn't like to be asked _any_ questions, as she intrinsically expected for everyone to know what they 'needed', it would just remain as observation only. She fleetingly wondered if it made a difference that she was there. She would have to look at a mixture of Miranda nodding twice, nodding once, shaking her head slightly, or pursing her lips. Maybe there would be one of her rare smiles in store today. Or maybe she would just roll her eyes like Andy still claimed she had seen the Editor-in-Chief do once last year. Then again, she had thought the piece of clothing it had been directed at was indeed hideous –– even in her modest opinion. That would most likely be the most exciting thing of the day, because fashion… well. It wasn't really something she 'got' or even hoped to get –– let alone to the standards of Miranda Priestly, the Dragon Queen. Then again, fashion was something very personal, very subjective… very debatable. Oh hallelujah. Why was she here again anyway? _Damn you, John. Damn you._

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 (Tuesday, April 24, 2007)

Andy's day at _Runway_ had been exactly what she had expected and consequently exactly what she had hoped it wouldn't be. Right after the meeting at McQueen's all her hopes had washed away, like snow when hit with a burning sun. It hadn't left her with any inspiration at all for her article, unless her readers were interested in nods and headshaking –– which she seriously doubted. Of course, there had been a lot more headshakes than nods as was often so. No eye-rolling, though; nor smiles. At least it could have been worse. With Miranda, bad was never the worst. Miranda Priestly was, after all, impossible to begin with.

Momentarily, Andréa Sachs, Writer-in-Chief of _Life Today_ , wondered if maybe she could take it further and analyze how the rest of the world blindly relied on Miranda Priestly's way of nodding and headshaking to know whether fashion was really fashion and worth it –– as opposed to verbal communication. Business particularly, Andy had learned, was very dependent on communication in its verbal form –– often enough, written was even better! If in the end she still didn't know what to write, it might be a thought after all.

She was for once –– for it didn't happen often at all when at _Runway_ unless your name was Miranda Priestly –– alone in the elevator as she rode to the floor of her destination. She had hoped to find inspiration by coming in early, when it wasn't yet crowded with nervous, stressed and uptight people. Maybe she could share some words with Miranda's new second assistant if she didn't arrive late, too. She hadn't got her name the day prior –– that wasn't a surprise really, given how she had been there so little after all. You couldn't blame her. She doubted whether the blonde had worked at _Runway_ for long, though, because when Miranda had been on the phone with her, she had addressed the woman as Emily, while she had heard the voice at the other end wasn't Emily Charlton. It hadn't taken her long to realize what was going on. After all, she herself had been called 'Emily' so often, until Miranda had thought her qualified enough to be addressed by her given name. She had never even doubted for a moment that Miranda Priestly knew exactly what her name was, though. She caught herself wondering how long Emily might have been called a different name and what it might have been, too.

The real Emily Charlton had acted like she didn't exist, of course, and as always, had shared no more word than Miranda herself –– which was none at all. She hadn't had a lot of time to speak, though. Within minutes of arrival, Miranda had hurriedly left again for her meeting after checking mails –– presumably the most important that had come in overnight. Andy had followed the older woman, and that really had been the last time she had set foot in Elias-Clark the day before.

In effect, they hadn't remained for more than half an hour at any of her appointments. After all, Miranda was a very busy woman. She could tell the quality of fashion without thought, and the drives in between stops were rather long, too. Since all four collections were minor, Nigel had not been invited to go like he did when the collections were larger or more crucial. After all, while all was crucial in fashion, Miranda had varying degrees of 'crucial', too. That's how far it stretched.

So Andy had just remained quiet for most of the day before.

While in the car, Andy had looked from the window and had tried to keep herself focused on the people and the scenery that had slid by, for Miranda didn't like to talk unless she herself initiated it –– which of course she rarely did. Miranda didn't like to be the object of others' gaping either. Somehow, those many thoughts on Miranda and anything to do with her over the last few weeks had seemed to fall away in her presence. The stress of being close to the woman and how headache-y it made Andy feel just to listen to her must have caused it all, she thought.

The headache she had, had only gotten worse after lunchtime. Miranda had met with a person whose name she had already forgotten by the second meeting –– the second one she had been allowed to attend anyway. Miranda and the man had ordered for themselves a glass of Pellegrino and a light meal, but when the waitress had turned to Andy to ask what she wanted, Miranda had come in-between and said that she wouldn't have anything… so the waitress had left them without asking –– no one dared question Miranda Priestly after all. Not the waitress or her lunch guest, nor Andy. Andy highly doubted that would have been true still if she hadn't had company, though. She had really wanted to open her mouth then, telling Miranda that she couldn't do this, because she needed food or water at the very least, too –– especially since the schedule for the rest of the day didn't seem like it would allow a chance to get anything anywhere. After a couple of mute seconds, Andy had realized that no matter what really happened, she was resigned to it anyway.

A glass of water was always waiting for her everywhere she went, with food she never touched even if it was 'healthy' and expensive; but, of course, no one ever counted on the assistant or guest. She wasn't really a 'guest', though. She felt more like a third wheel than anything. She had been really on the verge of running off to get a sandwich and a bottle of water… or maybe even a glass of something stronger. Then the thought coursed through her mind that something interesting in regard to her article might be said, something other than nods and headshakes just maybe, and it had made her stay.

So yes, by the time they had left the last collection viewing of the afternoon, and Miranda told Roy to drop her off home after she herself had been dropped off, Andy had been very glad to see the day end, ready to ransack her own kitchen and dive into her fridge, turn it upside down for anything edible. She had a mighty headache from too little food and fluid, and all she wanted to after addressing those needs was to get an early night.

So today Andy had not arrived unarmed, having stuffed a bottle of water in one of her larger purses and a few nibbles just in case Minerva repeated her impossible cruelness. This time, Andy was ready, and she wouldn't let Miranda Fucking Priestly trick her into being too tired and thirsty, overwhelmed and headache-y, to really pay attention anymore. She didn't doubt for a second that Miranda must have had one goal or another in mind by not letting her eat anything at all.

Today, Miranda would be mostly indoors, at least until afternoon, for a meeting with _Runway_ 's art designers to discuss the pictures and other illustrations the next issue would contain, or could at least. Miranda often cut a few, for she was never entirely satisfied. This meant that Andy would most likely see Nigel today then. She hadn't had a real chance the day before, and the thought excited her. She had missed him lots. He was a unique person, unable to ever be replaced.

She sighed, sitting down on the desk chair she herself had once occupied. Neither Emily nor the new girl had arrived at Elias-Clark yet, and Andy hadn't seen any other familiar faces thus far –– she really must be early then. Leaning back, she concluded that it hadn't changed even one bit there. She definitely didn't miss this sort of life… at all. No way.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Andy sat herself at the desk and waited. Luckily enough, she didn't have to wait long. The new girl arrived not long after her, actually. Andy involuntarily quirked her left eyebrow at the sight of her the younger blonde, though. She could see the ashen paleness of her countenance from a distance –– certainly not the color of a healthy person in any way, or even close to it. She didn't seem to notice her there at all, which caused Andy's brow to furrow further as she stood.

Andy followed her with her eyes as she put away her black leather vest and shiny golden handbag –– definitely more fashionable and daring than hers. When the girl finally moved to sit at her desk, she noticed Andy. She opened her mouth to greet her and say something, but a look of sickness passed over those pale features when she did. Andy wasn't at all surprised to see her cover her mouth hastily, then turn on her heels and run off to where Andy knew the restrooms were located. She might have had just a tad too much the night prior… or maybe the second assistant was genuinely ill. If so, she really should have remained home, in bed. If she would have to run off to the bathroom every couple of minutes to vomit, then she would be of little use for the day. Of course, Miranda Priestly would expect her to be there at all times, find absence –– no matter if within the girl's power or not –– enough of a reason to fire her there and then. Andy knew the Editor-in-Chief of _Runway_ would undoubtedly like it even less to see her run off every few minutes, though. Andy vividly remembered the look of utter disgust on Miranda's face when Emily had fallen ill that time; when she had been forced to learn all those names for the benefit function… Emily had worn Valentino then, Andy far less famous attires… The devil wore Prada to those –– always, Andy had learned.

Leaning against the desk, Andy sighed and chose to wait for the new girl's return. She still hadn't really gotten a name. She thought of what names would suit her person, but was shaken from her thoughts when the sound of more high heels, more _Clackers_ , could be heard on the shiny work floor. From the far distance, she saw Emily's work buddy Serena, followed by two girls she knew worked in Art Design, although she had never shared more than a few words with them. As the two women disappeared in Serena's wake, she redirected her eyes, her gaze falling upon the girl that had run off. She barely looked any better and still on the verge of vomiting any second. Oh dear.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, before Andy would ask whether she was all right. "I had a slightly too greasy dinner last night, and now I'm, of course, suffering the consequences of that. Who are you anyway?" she asked, though not really unkindly, slowly sitting down by her desk. "I did see you yesterday, but we didn't have much of a chance to talk or anything. I never even got your name, I'm afraid."

Andy pushed away from leaning against the desk, moving opposite the new girl, but with the desk separating them. "Likewise. I'm Andy," she introduced. "I used to be the second assistant, before you. I'm working with another magazine as a writer now, though. I'm… observing Miranda for a couple of days. I was asked to write an extended article about her, on the request of the readership, and my boss thought it beneficial to let me observe for a bit to get me inspired and all, because it has been quite a while since I last sat there."

The new girl redirected her gaze to Andy, after turning on the computer. Her countenance turned momentarily thoughtful. "You're not the girl who wrote that article 'Women at the Top of the Chain' and chose to reference Miranda Priestly in it, are you?" she wondered, and Andy didn't know how she should interpret the tone used.

"Err…" she said. "I am. Why?"

The girl's eyes seemed to widen for a second before she tempered her reaction. "Oh, nothing," she said. "I, uhm… I just believed you made a good representation. It caused a little fuss, though. Thalia from Art Design somehow bought the magazine and accidentally came upon your article. By noon, the whole of the office had heard or read or both. When Miranda asked about getting the number of the person responsible at _Life Today_ , Emily mentioned you would be fired. She seemed quite sure –"

"I'm rather surprised, too," Andy admitted. "I never expected to be able to keep my job at _Life Today_ , though I was careful with how I worded it." The details of her little 'brunch' with Miranda Priestly remained undisclosed.

The ding of the elevator sounded then, and she could see more people filter in. Andy immediately caught Emily's red hair. She turned to the new assistant. She was very different from Emily Charlton –– she was definitely in the fashionable range of women and looked unkind, but, everything taken in consideration, she wasn't. Andy supposed that beginner's insecurity might have a bit to do with it, though.

"She didn't say anything, of course… but Emily was rather surprised to see you yesterday, too, I believe," the new girl said. "She was so sure that you would be kicked from your new job. I don't believe she has ever even said a word more than strictly necessary to me until that day…" As Emily moved to sit at her desk, the new girl dropped her voice to a whisper. "She seemed rather happy actually that you would lose your job, it seemed."

"Ah, that's how we know it is really her," Andy muttered, fleetingly looking over her shoulder to gaze at who was being discussed. Her blue eyes were, as always, heavily made up. Andy noticed this when the first assistant's deathly glare suddenly landed upon her. Emily Charlton really was one of those people that made her glad looks couldn't literally kill. If so, she would have been killed a long time ago by that woman. She turned to the new assistant again. "I never got your name either," Andy said kindly.

"Oh. Of course. My name's Francesca," she said. "Although, over here, I'm Emily II. I––"

Andy was really unsurprised to see her suddenly push back from the desk, get upright, and run off in the direction of the restrooms once again. She had seen the girl's face become more grayish as the seconds had passed. She really would be better off in bed, at home. Andy shared a look with Emily, who quirked an eyebrow in a careless what-are-you-looking-at fashion. Then the elevator dinged once more, opening to reveal the Dragon Lady. Andy's gaze caught the time indicated by the fashionably retro, round clock hanging in _Runway: America's_ offices in the main hallway. Precisely nine. Of course.

Her eyes shot to Emily, who smirked in a very nasty way. Within seconds, Miranda would pass by this very desk, throw her bag and her coat on it and begin rambling off her to do list… and it would be unoccupied, and she wouldn't care about the hows or whys of it at all. Emily wouldn't care either, not even if she knew Francesca would be in trouble for it.

Emily Charlton only seemed to really care if it somehow involved her. Andy had often felt that she had only gotten off on Andy's with every little mistake for her delight, not with no regard for Miranda Priestly's honest wellbeing. While Francesca seemed like a really nice girl, Emily would enjoy it if she was fired, undoubtedly. Oh dear. Oh no…

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Andy's heart raced when the Dragon Lady drew nearer; the fact that her incredibly high, thin heels (how could she even walk in them anyway?) clacked audibly above basically everything else, strengthening her usual air of intimidation. She looked at the desk fleetingly, slightly pursing her lips at Francesca's obvious absence. Miranda Priestly noticed all: Miranda Priestly noticed _everything_ and _everyone_. She never said anything, but if you looked at her closely, you could see those blue eyes dart about piercingly when Miranda arrived somewhere: assessing the situation in mere seconds with just one look. Andy opened her mouth to say something, tell her where the girl was, and that she really couldn't help it, but Miranda wouldn't… _care_. She cared for results, not how she ever achieved them. After all, she always only spoke in _certainties_ ; never 'I would like…', but always, 'I will', 'Tell'… just like a commander, or at least how she imagined those to be like in the army. She wondered if she had ever even thought of mentioning to her daughters how 'Please' and 'I would like' were better. Maybe Cara had had to do that bit of parenting.

Instead, Miranda Priestly herself opened her mouth and began to ramble off her usual to do list, not caring who noted it down, but only that it would all get done. Even if the result got there, she never acknowledged the effort put into it.

"I'll have my appointment with the pedicurist switched from Thursday to tonight, after seven. I will not be available before then. I need someone to go and get the jumpsuits at Lagerfeld, as well as the scarves and all the right accessories, from Hèrmes. I'll most likely want some more handbags and shoes from Cacharel today, too –– today, not tomorrow. I want to have roasted pigeon, at twelve-thirty, here, from that one place at Lexington I like. Oh, and inform Nigel and everyone else that I really want to advance to nine forty-five. I sure hope they're ready…" she said in that airy tone that didn't bode well for those that weren't. A lot of pursing of thin lips would ensue. "Oh, and tell Miss Ardens that I don't ever want to see her again. She won't set a foot on this floor ever again, nor in this entire building. That's all."

At that, she dumped her expensive handbag and white coat on the desk behind Andy and marched further into her office. Andy opened her mouth in shock. She turned in a whirlwind and reached for a post-it and a pen to write down those bits she remembered before she forgot those. After all, it was a lot to remember either way! While she had doubted she ever could do it again, it was a nice surprise, finding her near-year at _Runway_ had paid off. Andy's memory stretched much further than she had ever thought. Soon enough, she had mastered the art of remembering the most important word of every item on the list, repeating it endlessly in her mind until she could write it down on paper with more details.

Once she had jotted everything down on the both sides of a large post-it, she read through the list and sighed deeply. "Oh Hell," she muttered. _Did Miranda have any bloody idea how impossible it was in fact to change a pedicure appointment with only a few hours notice? Did she have_ any _idea whatsoever how different 'right accessories' could be interpreted by people?_ Andy rolled her eyes at her own mistakes. She could have face-palmed. _Of course she did, but it wouldn't make any bloody difference! Since when did the company of Cacharel have shoes and handbags?_ Andy recalled having seen their perfumes a couple of times, but no shoes or handbags. _Wait, were belts not considered 'accessories' then?" Wait, wait… Weren't scarves accessories, too?_

Andy just skipped the lunch item for now as that seemed further away than informing Nigel and everyone else that the hour of the meeting had been brought forward to nine forty-five. That was most likely easiest of the entire list –– she knew exactly what Miranda had been talking about, after all. Andy had seen and taken note on many of those meetings, and it wasn't the first time she decided to reset the time either. Rarely, it happened that those involved were ready when that was the case, though, despite knowing Miranda had a thing for always changing the time. So to a certain extent, Andy did share Miranda's annoyance. They never actually seemed to learn, after all… even after the many times Miranda had mentioned her disappointment in them.

_Who was Miss Ardens, though?_ The name didn't really ring a bell with Andy, no matter how deep she dug into her brain. Maybe someone who had been hired after her leave there? Knowing that she couldn't ask Miranda herself, she chose to just push her luck anyway and direct her question to Emily. "Who is Miss Ardens?" she asked, redirecting her gaze from the post-it to her. Emily gave her a mad look that made her feel as if she had just asked the most ridiculous question ever.

A slightly familiar clacking of shoes behind her sounded before a strangled voice spoke, "Oh, that would be me. Why?"

Andy shared a slightly panicked look with Emily… but she just smirked. Andy focused on the blonde again. "Ah, I'll be taking over your job for today. You just go home and rest for now, and then hopefully you will feel better tomorrow. You can't do much here now, when you're this ill."

"Did Miranda say that?" Francesca wondered, her eyebrows quirking in amazement. She couldn't somehow imagine Miranda Priestly to have said just that… but she chose to believe it anyway, given that she remembered not having disclosed her name to Andy and Emily's attitude of only speaking when absolutely necessary. How else would she have known her name? What else could Miranda have said?

"She said she doesn't expect you to stay now," Andy said, and in a way it wasn't even a lie either. She tried not to look too nervous when she said it.

"Oh," Francesca replied, taken aback. "Well, I… All right. I guess I'll get my bag and my coat and go home."

The girl nodded goodbye, turning to go and retrieve her belongings before she went home for the day, as she seemed to be expected to do. Andy followed her with her eyes until Francesca had disappeared from view. She somehow knew the girl wouldn't turn back but move straight ahead to the elevator and leave, as 'told'. She released a very deep sigh. Oh dear.

"I'm curious how you'll be talking yourself fromthis one tomorrow," Emily said in a winning tone, the smirk still upon her face before she looked down to see what she needed to do today. Aside from the schedule, there was so much more to do especially if you were the second assistant. Andy thought it was a good thing she knew a lot still from when she had worked there. "Miranda will be _furious_ …" she continued, trailing off in that tone Andy hated. She suspected she knew this, too. Of course. Miranda knew everything, no?

Andy's eyes fell upon the redhead, and she squinted her eyes at her. _I'm doing this just for a day_ , Andy reminded herself as she debated whether she should just let it slide by as she always had while working there as a second assistant herself or not. The mere thought helped her make her decision. "You do what you are always so good at, Emily," she said, moving to sit behind the desk and to inform Nigel and everyone else that their meeting would be in thirty-five minutes. Andy eyed her in fury. "Shut up."

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

"All right," Andy muttered to herself. _Who, aside from Nigel, will I have to inform now of the fact that the meeting has changed times again?_ If this had come last year, she would have texted everyone there who might have been asked to attend –– just to make sure she hadn't missed anyone. However, now she had no company cell phone that contained all the numbers she may possibly need. _Damn._ She hadn't thought about this before she had ordered Francesca to go home to rest. She mentally cursed herself now for it. Why hadn't she thought of that first?

"I'll inform Nigel and the rest that the meeting has been advanced and take care of Miranda's pedicure appointment," Emily said, as if she could read her mind. The tone in which that was said, was still one of 'Be glad that I'm doing this for you, though I should let you suffer, because I didn't do this to myself, and it is so no my issue', though. It still said a lot for Emily Charlton.

Andy looked at her in surprise, not having expected this little moment of kindness from the redhead. "That would be nice," Andy said, pondering for a moment before getting to her feet. "I believe I better get to Lagerfeld and Hermès then. I've never been to Cacharel, though, so that might be a little issue. I never expected to serve as a second assistant again."

A loud enough sigh eschewed from Emily's pursed lips and reachedAndy's ears. She irritably redirected her gaze to wonder what the other assistant had to say. She really would have liked to know her as a beginning assistant there, or being met with this bunch of challenges again. She only had the easy tasks now. Andy's face showed anyone who would care to look that she wasn't hoping for a discussion or being told she wasn't doing it right. If she wanted to keep that sort of discussion from happening with Miranda Priestly later, she had better get going –– it would already be a challenge enough once Miranda discovered she hadn't actually gotten the news across to Francesca Ardens as she had wanted. The tiny bit of confidence she had left in Emily to not purposefully boycott her work told her she wouldn't be evil enough to inform the Dragon Lady.

However, as she turned to Emily again, she saw that the redhead had extended her hand to her… with her own company cell phone in it. She quirked her eyebrow in confusion, opening her mouth to tell Emily she didn't get what she wanted, when the other woman said, "This device has a maps app in it, with all addresses you need saved. It'll tell you which is closer and what routes to take to get there, and what will be fastest. The details of the restaurant at Lexington Miranda likes are in it, too. I hope you do know how to use this?"

Andy eyed the first assistant in surprise. Her voice was as icy as always; degrading, too… but Emily meant well, it seemed –– in her own way. Andy would have to tell her to shut up more often, she mused, taking the mobile device, giving her a little smile. "I'm really grateful for this."

"You better be back soon," she spat in that nasty old tone –– if she had ever really lost it at all.

Andy nodded. "I'll try," she confirmed, before turning and moving to go retrieve her coat and handbag once more, already searching through the phone's apps for the one she needed. It wasn't hard to find at all, given it was called 'Maps'.

Once the app had fully loaded, she pushed a few buttons and discovered she could make a route for herself and add the addresses of everywhere she needed to visit. She really appreciated these sorts of inventions and technology sometimes –– they made life easier, for sure. She was so very absorbed in testing the new technology that she only barely took notice of who left the elevator as she entered it. It wasn't until suddenly a voice sounded from right behind Andy that she turned and looked. "Andy?"

Andy's smile widened at the sight of him at once –– the one person at the offices of _Runway_ whom she expected had never really hated her; not even at first either. He stepped closer to her. "What are you doing here?"

"I, ah…" _Good question._ "I'm… temporarily replacing Francesca. She ate something too greasy and arrived here sick. She's gone home, though."

Nigel's head shook at that. "Who called you to step in?" he questioned. "I can barely believe that Miranda would tell her to go home, or Emily for that matter. After all, I can't see Emily put in any effort more than necessary; which sending Francesca home would have meant –– as long as the Dragon Lady doesn't come after her for not fulfilling her own duties, you won't hear from her."

"No one called me," Andy admitted, then continued, assuming he had heard of her article, too, after what Francesca had said earlier that day. "I had to be here anyway. I've been requested to get more depth into who Miranda Priestly as an Editor-in-Chief of _Runway_ really is. Against all my ho–– _expectations_ , the first article was received very well. A few mutters of consternation, of course… but I never would have guessed that many good responses. My boss was happily surprised, too." Again, she said no word at all about the brunch.

Nigel seemed very surprised still, though, and said, "Ah, yes. It did cause consternation at least."

Andy nodded, biting down on her bottom lip in worry or in thought. She couldn't really say which, for it had become an unconscious thing to do when stressed or worried, or otherwise emotional. "My boss thought it might be wise that I reacquainted with _Runway_ and Miranda again to inspire me for the next article. So you'll see me around here until Thursday –– when I'm not on the road with Miranda, at least. I'll already be running about most of the day today, it seems. Emily's given me her phone for now, and she has made it clear that I'm to return ASAP, so… I better run! You do need to, as well! I'll see you later maybe! Good luck!"

With that, she disappeared into the elevator. Nigel didn't have time to say anything more than that or speak of how surprised he was that Miranda would allow Andy to follow her for the sake of another article, while he knew that she hated journalists. Of course, Miranda Priestly cared greatly for what they wrote on her and _Runway_ , and she _always_ tried being the sweet, reasonable one, whenever journalists were there. He had, however, heard her mention more than once how much she detested journalists and all that they stood for. In fact, Nigel had heard it often.

He had indeed better hurry if he didn't want her to snap at him for not being on time himself. Nigel was rather worried about the other two, though. When Inez had last texted him, she had mentioned that she really feared she wouldn't make it. He then recalled Andy's words. He needed good luck. He didn't appreciate having to calm another girl down after Miranda had finished snapping at her again. He had lost count now of how many times he had had to do that over the years he had worked for _Runway_ ; for Miranda. Somehow, they always found him when those things happened. Always. True, he sometimes damned himself for seeming kind, _being_ kind… well, benevolent enough at least. Oh well, if it didn't happen today, then it would most likely in the next meeting or the next. There would never be a last time, Nigel Kipling knew.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The fact that Hermès' huge offices were farthest from _Runway_ , and thus Andy's last stop before she would return, happened to be both an advantage and a disadvantage all at once. In less than an hour, Andy had managed to grab a seemingly capable stylist at both Lagerfeld and Cacharel to help her select the items that Miranda had asked for that morning. She just hoped that what she had brought from the designers was good enough –– and what Miranda Priestly had wanted. After all, it happened more often than not, that Miranda Priestly had a different opinion than the stylists.

The disadvantage of it being Andy's last stop on the route was that she had had to carry all the jumpsuits from Lagerfeld both to Cacharel and Hermès, given Lagerfeld had been her first port of call. She fleetingly wondered why Miranda needed the jumpsuits anyway in her not-so-fashionable mind. Was she really expecting those to be popular again? What she had learned from being Miranda's second assistant, was that styles that had been fashionable in far earlier decades always had an opportunity to return to their full glory in 'new ways'. She somehow couldn't imagine women walking down the street wearing jumpsuits at this point, though. She must say that some of them were nice-looking, but nothing she would ever wear –– they were too embellished for her. However, she could definitely see Emily wearing one on a morning upon arrival at _Runway_ –– the most daring of course.

He didn't have a lot of suitable jumpsuits –– only the best selection for Miranda, of course –– but after visiting with Cacharel as well, all was beginning to get too heavy… especially since she had brought quite a large variety from the latter, in hopes that Miranda would actually like some of it. Oh, what Andy did for that impossible woman, even when it really wasn't her issue any more.

Maybe, she should have gone to what was furthest away first, so that she could have worked her way back like that. Then again, it was mostly the many shoe boxes that were bothering her, so in the end it would not have made so much difference.

The advantage of it was that she had been able to show the stylist at Hermès the clothes she most likely needed those 'right accessories' for –– nevertheless, she had tried to bring the best variety possible without taking everything, regardless of the clothes she had hauled with her. Some other fashion magazines would need to have enough for their own selection, too, after all. She could count her lucky stars that Miranda usually came first in that instance; a comparison between what had been there before she had arrived and the little that was left now…. Well.

Another advantage of stopping at Hermès last, was that the stylists remembered her and treated her kinder than when she had first begun to work at _Runway_. A perk of that kindness they showed to her now, was that the stylist had suggested to have someone from the company deliver the accessories with the rest of the many boxes and bags she carried, once she had selected twenty pieces of accessories they both really hoped would be liked by the irritable Dragon Lady, of course.

The relief must have shown on the younger woman's face, for he hadn't waited on an answer, already moving to the telephone to call one of their assistants to have it done. He assured Andy once he had hung up that all would be taken care of and be delivered to _Runway_ in less than half an hour. Andy had thanked him copiously for his kindness, making sure he knew it was very much appreciated, before turning and leaving the building with her handbag only. The names ' _Runway'_ and 'Miranda Priestly' and being known as her former assistant sometimes held a lot of advantages. She doubted that stylist Rhani would have offered this for others, let alone without asking a superior first, and she couldn't really imagine anyone at the other designer houses helping her like that either.

Smiling widely, Andy arrived at _Runway_ at twelve-twenty, carrying Miranda's requested roasted pigeon from the restaurant she liked at Lexington. They had been appalled at first, saying that they were not a simple takeaway restaurant. When Miranda's name had 'accidentally' fallen from her lips, however, everyone had rushed to get the lunch ready, giving it absolute priority… enabling her to leave as soon as possible. Oh yes, it had its perks. She knew that half of her requests would never be fulfilled if she wasn't who she was and just maybe… that was why she thought she was permitted to make them, too?

As she returned to _Runway_ , Andy was caught by the arm by Emily before she had even set two feet onto the seventeenth floor. She seemed to have been waiting for her by the elevator… but that couldn't be possible –– could it? No, surely not. Maybe her phone had a hidden GPS tracker, too, Andy's paranoid side momentarily considered. "Where have you been for so long?" she hissed. "You forgot that you have my personal phone, obviously!"

"No one called or texted, so relax," Andy said.

Emily sighed irritably, hands waving. "Plus, how did you get them to deliver the boxes and bags like that?" she demanded to know, voice suddenly lowering to barely a whisper. She snatched her cell phone from Andy once she had fished it from her leather handbag after a bit of searching, while balancing Miranda's lunch in the other hand awkwardly but successfully.

"Ah, maybe because I, unlike you, know how to appreciate kindness," Andy said, her voice not a whisper at all. "Showing kindness gets you a long way, too. You should maybe try it sometime if you're capable. Now, if you'll excuse me, Miranda's waiting for her lunch," she continued, tugging her arm free, leaving her black handbag on the desk that was hers again for the day and moved to Miranda Priestly's office. She knocked once politely on the glass door to the Dragon Lady's sanctuary to announce she had arrived, momentarily waiting until she could hear a soft but clear 'yes' to tell her that she could come in if she wanted.

Miranda looked over the edge of her laptop at the younger woman, eyeing her with piercing sea blue eyes in thought –– or so Andy would call the look on Miranda's face. She just eyed her for several long seconds, as if Andy was absolutely the most interesting thing the Editor-in-Chief had seen of all day. The scrutiny made her feel slightly uncomfortable, and as she continued to gaze right back at her, looking away somehow impossible, she could feel her palms get sweaty. She broke the silence. "I uhm… I've got your roasted pigeon, from Shelton Grille at Lexington, just like you asked."

"I do happen to remember what I asked."

"Of course, I…" _Shut up! Shut up!_

Miranda continued to gaze at Andy for a bit longer than was strictly necessary –– at least definitely in Andy's opinion. Unbeknownst to Andréa Sachs, Miranda hadn't failed to notice how she appeared to have persuaded someone at one of the designers to deliver all of those goods to _Runway_. She had made some calls and found that one of the stylists at Hermès had offered that kindness. Andy never would have thought either that Miranda had heard her snap at Emily before leaving and just now as well. She couldn't even begin to guess that it reminded Miranda Priestly of how alike they were in many ways, which… tickled her. Then, Miranda nodded, slowly shutting her laptop and pushing it to the side to make room for Andy to set the roasted pigeon down on the desk where the laptop had been.

"Err… have a good meal," Andy managed and smiled softly, turning to leave the office again. When she moved, however, Miranda spoke again.

"Ahn-dre-ah."

Andy stopped and turned to face her once more, wondering if there was something else she needed. However, all that she did was eye her in scrutiny… just like she had done before, and it made her wonder if maybe something was amiss –– maybe the buttons on her ochre dress had popped open, or… well, she couldn't exactly check if that was the case right now, could she? That would be admitting it, getting caught. Miranda didn't say anything, though. She didn't nod or even purse her lips. What was the matter? She was on the verge of asking if she wanted something more, though she knew far better than to ask.

Then, nearly as suddenly as Andy's name had left her lips, she waved her hand to shoo her from the office so that she could eat. Andy turned again and left, glad she wasn't being called back for nothing again. As she returned to her desk, she looked down at herself to confirm all buttons were neatly closed still, but that made her wonder more what the Hell that had been about instead then. Had she made a grave fashion blunder without realizing, combining the dress with the Chanel ankle boots? If so, Emily would most likely have told her, no? She did so enjoy reveling in Andy's incapacities after all… If not, it would have been very unlike Nigel not to have mentioned it, no matter if both of them were harried or not. Or not? No, Nigel would never have let her leave without mentioning something like that, she confirmed.

Or had it been a reprimand for her to be wearing her coat still, for having those goods delivered and not bringing them to _Runway_ herself? Or maybe for the deal with Francesca earlier? Why hadn't she said a word about it then… snapped at Andy or maybe pursed those damn lips of hers at least? _Gah! That woman!_ Shaking her head slightly in her confusion, Andy settled behind the desk and missed Emily's look of near-shock and surprise. Oh well. She never would have managed to interpret it anyway.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20 (Wednesday, April 25, 2007)

She couldn't really say whether she had missed lots the day before, because she still vividly remembered those get-togethers between the stylists and art designers and Miranda, looking through what might be used in the coming issues. Miranda's afternoon had been filled with meetings here and there, beginning with one with her ex-husband at two, followed by two more with a couple of fashion designers that were just getting into it all, who hoped to somehow convince her of all that they were worth and who desired to have a little feature in _Runway_. Of course, once you were featured in _Runway_ , you could be sure that your stuff was going to be successful and sold. Everyone knew that. Andy wasn't sure why it always happened specifically at the beginning of May –– well, 'always' was maybe an exaggeration, but the same thing had happened last year when she had worked for the magazine too. Miranda's meetings with the new wannabe fashion designers had preceded one with her massage therapist and hastily rescheduled pedicurist –– which Emily had managed to pinpoint at seven-fifteen.

Today, Miranda wouldn't be at the company until eleven due to an early parent-teacher conference which the Dragon Lady had managed to postpone from the evening before to that morning, for she would not be available. Of course, it wouldn't really have been an issue at all to drop the name of 'Miranda Priestly' and those of her twin daughters in order to arrange a more fitting time.

Somehow, Andy never would have guessed Miranda Priestly to be the sort of mother who would actually go to that kind of meeting. She remembered from her own childhood that her mom or dad had gone rarely if at all. Then again, Andy had never caused any issues and her grades had never been bad either, so they had never been necessary. She did remember one occurrence where she had been positive her result in Chemistry wasn't correct, but the substitute teacher –– the real one had to have an urgent operation on their gall bladder the week before scorecards were given, and the substitute obviously hadn't known her or her 'normal grades' –– hadn't wanted to listen, had told her his decision was final and that he was sure no mistake had been made… So Andy's father had gone to the school and requested to have a look at her tests. It seemed that a digithad been forgotten on one of the tests, leaving her general mean a lot lower than it should have been. With apologies from both the substitute teacher and Andy's headmaster, the grade had been changed, at once. Aside from that one occurrence, she couldn't remember attending a parent-teacher conference about her. Oh, there had been a lot for her brother, though… He had been the one with the detentions –– they were two exact opposites; always had been really.

Andy, of course, wasn't allowed or expected to go with Miranda to the rescheduled conference, given it had nothing to do with who she was at _Runway_. Of course, you could debate forever about how who we are personally has an effect on our more professional life and that vice versa, but attending this meeting was never a question.

Anyhow, Andy had taken this as a liberty to sleep in –– the first time for quite a while actually. She had rummaged for a bit in her bathroom closet drawer and found a pot of facial mask she must have had for years but never even opened. She had scrubbed her legs, too –– something she hadn't done in a little while. She couldn't even remember the last time.

She had lots of that stuff lying about –– most of them gifts from Lily for birthdays and the like. It seldom happened that she made use of them, though. Often enough, she just didn't have the time to take whatever minutes longer than necessary in the shower to neatly scrub her legs and the like… and often, she just couldn't be bothered with it. As long as she didn't have reddish pimples on her legs in visible areas, she was happy enough if they were hair-free. That's something she did pay _some_ attention to at least –– shaving her armpits and legs often enough never to let the hair get longer than a very limited stubble.

Now, she had so much time –– in comparison –– that Andy chose to actually use it on her appearance for once. She was a young woman, after all. So by the time Andy had dried herself off entirely and gotten some clean underwear and was gazing at the contents of her wardrobe, looking for suitable clothes, she had to admit to herself that she felt more feminine and attractive than had been the case in quite a while, even if it was only how her legs shone that bit more than usual and how her face felt that bit more refreshed.

Self-assured, Andy Sachs pulled her most daring shorts from the closet –– black leather ones chosen especially for her by Nigel himself, last year. She doubted that they would have become completely unfashionable in less than a year. After all, she had worn them only once. Finding a top she thought would fit with the leather shorts well, she dragged it from her wardrobe, too, and finally got dressed.

She turned on her laptop for a while after she had showered, dressed and had something to eat. She replied to the email from her father and then sent one to John. Andy had debated with herself for a long time whether or not she should do it and had considered if she would have, had it not been for their kiss at the restaurant a few days ago. She had figured eventually that she most likely would have… so she went ahead and emailed him, informing him of how she had some potential ideas for the new article already, and that she had temporarily replaced Francesca. She very much wanted them to be 'okay' again, because something inside told her they weren't. She hoped that acting just like they had prior to the kiss would help them to rediscover that pattern.

While sending the mail, an advertisement for a new toy car in the shape of a small version of a Hummer H2 with remote had popped up, and spontaneously, she had just ordered it, sure that her godson would like it. Aiden was quite the tomboy, very into toy cars and the like. She had sent a message to her aunt following the order to make sure she would not accidentally buy the same. It had been an unwritten rule between them since the beginning, to inform each other of whatever they bought for Aiden, given how many times it had happened when she was younger that she had received a doll or similar twice from two aunts or uncles –– after all, she had a fair few of those. Andy's father Richard had three sisters and a brother, and her mother had a sister, too. Andy and Alex had had enough nieces, nephews and cousins to have fun with when they were children.

Whereas Aiden was an obvious tomboy –– much like her brother Alex had been; she always joked how they were alike in many ways, that Aiden was a mini-Alex –– she had been the girly girl as a child. Andy assumed that it still showed somehow now in her later years. She thought of the ridiculous number of pink dresses she once used to have and laughed. No pink for her anymore now.

She left about ten minutes later, feeling more self-assured than she had in quite a while –– not even the thought of New York's most terrifying criticizer soon laying eyes upon her and her attire, or being surrounded by hosts of thinner girls, all more beautiful by modern measures, would break her spirit today.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Due to the aroma of sweet mango and other delicious smells her luxury bath salts contained, Andy must have just forgotten about the particular reason why she had had to replace Francesca as a second assistant the day prior… and about the slightly altered version of Miranda's wishes Andy had relayed to the younger blonde. It only struck her again when she arrived on the seventeenth floor of Elias-Clark and her hazel eyes fell upon the second assistant. She looked at Emily, whose gaze trailed up when she could feel another's upon her. Her eyes momentarily shot back to Francesca for clarification, but Emily said nothing. She didn't even mouth something back in order to reassure her, or even smile in triumph in an 'I-told-you-so' kind of way.

As Emily resumed typing with her perfectly manicured nails, Andy hurried down the hallway to where the stylist offices were. She really hoped Nigel would already be there. That was her first thought, like it had been often enough before in times of crisis –– or at least crisis in Andy Sachs' personal terms. Maybe a little in Miranda Priestly's, too. She could make a huge deal from something Andy thought unimportant, and couldn't care less about what Andy would consider a nightmare. They were on different levels on so many topics. Then again, Andy doubted whether _anyone_ in the whole wide world was on a level with Miranda Priestly, either in her mother of twin daughters or as her Editor-in-Chief of _Runway_ America appearance. She was a mysterious woman, a force you only stood a chance of understanding after you had the delight or misfortune of meeting her. She guessed many would say it was a delight before and a misfortune after.

"I did something really stupid," Andy said as she stepped into the glass office of Nigel Kipling. She swallowed, biting down on her bottom lip, and waited for him to just say… something! Anything! _Oh dear, help me. She'll kill me; I'm surprised she hasn't already. She'll just see Francesca, and… flip!_

Nigel eyed her for several long seconds before he sighed, letting go of the piece of shiny orange fabric which he was holding and laid it down on the light table at which he stood, before looking at the former assistant through his rounded glasses again. He cocked his head. " _Darling_ ," he began in that same tone he had used on her when Andy had come to him saying everyone hated her. "If you mean how you walked away from Miranda Priestly in Paris, then yes. I'm surprised that you only realize that now. If being back here has somehow triggered some old delights of having been Miranda's assistant, then I'll have to disappoint you. You'll never get your job back, no matter how hopeless that Ardens girl is… and others. She's the fourth, since you left here. I doubt that she'll hesitate to tell her to leave, though, and to never look back sooner rather than later. Then she'll ask Human Resources to find yet another assistant, another Miranda-girl. She's shared her annoyance a few times already over Francesca."

"I, uh…" Andy began, looking down. _She already kind of had…_

"Dear Heavens, what's going on?" Nigel urged. "I haven't got all the time in the world, you know. If you would like to tell me something or ask my advice… if I can give you any at all to begin with. We'll just have to see about that."

Andy eyed him once more, finding the strength and sanity to speak. "I don't regret leaving her. While in the end my experience here wasn't entirely negative, it wasn't exactly what I had always dreamed of since I was a little girl. I, uh… There's something else I did which I do know was stupid, though. I fear that she's going to make sure I regret it, too, as soon as she discovers what I've done."

Nigel didn't need any confirmation whatsoever on whom the 'she' in the equation was. He arched his brow, looking at her intently and waiting for Andy to continue. He was getting curious, for sure.

"When, ah… Yesterday, when Miranda noticed that Francesca wasn't sitting at her desk, she sort of mentioned that I should tell her she was fired," Andy said. She didn't know why she was telling him this or even why she had come to him in the first place, but still she was here now. "I didn't really tell her in exact terms that she…"

"Oh Lord," Nigel interrupted, lifting his hand over his face and shaking his head. "What did you tell her?" he asked from behind his hand.

"That Miranda didn't expect her to stay. I sent her home to rest."

Nigel's hand lowered. "You can be assured that she isn't going to be happy. I doubt she would have waited to tell you off and then give you the sack in the same sentence had you still worked here at _Runway_."

"I know…" Andy groaned, suppressing the sudden urge to do as he just had and face-palm.

"I must admit that it is slightly… odd, since I haven't heard anything from Human Resources about her having asked to interview potential new assistants yet."

"Well…" Andy began. "Whether odd or not, I'm not waiting for Miranda's reaction when she discovers what I've done. Since I no longer work for _Runway_ , I've got no idea how far she could go. No reprimand at all seems… unlikely." She crossed her arms over her full bosom, eyes raking over the bits and pieces of fabric lying on Nigel's light table.

"Oh, I agree," Nigel spoke, nodding forcefully. The possibility of Andy getting away with that seemed more than surreal. "I couldn't tell either, but knowing Miranda Priestly, it could be anything from a talk in that deliciously poisonous tone of hers to making sure you shall never write a single article ever again here in New York, or in the States, period." As Andy opened her mouth to reply, he said, "If you wanted some reassurance, then you won't get any from me, _darling_. I've worked for her longer than I would care to admit and have been given certain freedoms while I work here, because I've always worked hard and pleased many… but still, you know what happened last year," he said, leaning over to inspect a piece of jeans fabric in what she would just call dark blue.

Andy nodded. "I _never_ understood how you could still work for her after Paris," she said. "After that selfish act Miranda pulled? I mean, I undoubtedly would have left…" Then she realized that she had left her for much less, compared to Nigel. A sigh eschewed from thin lips as she thought maybe she was a quitter and had given up way too soon. Hadn't leaving the Dragon Lady in Paris been 'giving up'? Quitting, definitely. Andy had caved under the level of stress, but basically she had left the job to fight for something that she really wanted to do –– something she thought she had at _Life Today_. Being Miranda's second assistant hadn't been it, for sure.

"It pays very well, and like I said, I've got my little liberties," Nigel said, his tone no more or less emotional –– rather businesslike, actually. He then eyed her with an intent gaze. "My job here is one I like no matter what. Being an art designer is an occupation which I enjoy and wanted to do since I was young."

"I do something I've always wanted to do, too," Andy said. It wasn't completely true, since Andy had dreamed of being a journalist for The New Yorker at first, but the essence remained the same: she wrote for more than a college paper and liked it. "Though I hope that this won't put a sudden end to the joys of being a writer-in-chief…"

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Against everyone's initial expectations –– well, those aware of what Andy had managed to do, concerning Francesca Ardens being fired –– no word was said about it by anyone at all, Miranda Priestly herself included. When she returned from having spilled her secret to Nigel in an effort not to detonate from anxiety, Andy saw that Miranda was seated at her desk, typing away on her black laptop. Emily was still seated at her desk, too… and to Andy's surprise, so was Francesca. It didn't appear as though Miranda Priestly had just reprimanded her… and it always showed, in one way or another. That was both weird and a huge relief. She fleetingly glanced at Emily, who shook her head to confirm that nothing had happened. A small sign of reassurance, but a great one for Emily Charlton, Andy knew. She looked at the clock overhead and discovered it had just turned eleven-ten, meaning that soon enough, Miranda would be making her way down the hallway to have her weekly meeting with her article writers, giving them her opinions on the work they had sent her: meaning either a rather long list of pointers or just a flat, clear 'no', for an immediate 'yes' was never really heard. A 'no' often meant that one had to rewrite the entire article from scratch.

The meetings were long, but they were not boring at all –– at least, if you were actually somewhat interested in constructing magazine articles. Andy had never considered them 'boring', despite each and every subject being related to fashion. She had always thought it more interesting just to watch how Miranda judged the articles when Andy had been allowed to join the meetings and take note. She had never really understood Miranda's criteria for good articles for _Runway_ , but maybe she could discover them today. This time, she wouldn't have to write notes like mad until her hand cramped to make sure she had caught all that Miranda had said and all that had been decided article-wise.

She walked over to Francesca's desk. "Hey," she said. "Are you feeling any better than yesterday?"

The blonde looked up from the screen of her computer, a small smile on her lips. "I believe so. I'm no longer feeling sick. I'm still tired, though. I don't know how long I'll be able to stay awake while I wait for The Book tonight, but I guess that I'm going to have to." She closed her window and reached for a pen and a refill pad to take note. Miranda didn't like to be kept waiting in any way, under any circumstance. That was common knowledge, right from day number one. _Well,_ Andy thought. _She couldn't have been that bad, if she had been allowed to deliver The Book._

"I'm glad that you aren't feeling sick anymore," Andy offered, watching from the corner of her eye as Miranda stood from her desk. She swallowed, unsure where to look. There was nothing close she could suddenly act to be very interested in –– nothing she hadn't already seen at least, and still… _Runway_ offices didn't have a lot of decoration about. Most of it looked clinical, minimalistic Andy had always thought when she was there. Nothing had changed in that aspect, and she hadn't expected there to. Actually, she would have been very surprised indeed, if it had been so.

She watched Miranda pass through the glass doors of her office into the hallway and immediately headed to her next destination. She didn't stop at Francesca's desk or say anything. She just gazed ahead, and Andy wondered if she had noticed her even. Of course, Miranda Priestly noticed everything… but still her attitude made quite a few wonder. Even if only from the corner of her icy blue eyes, she would have noticed Andy, and her current fidgeting, too, no doubt. Miranda was a woman who caught every detail like no other… She was _highly_ perceptive.

As Francesca stood and followed in Miranda's wake, Andy did just the same.

Of course, there wasn't room for her at the table, so she chose to take an uncomfortable chair, sitting against the wall where she wouldn't be in anyone's way –– best not to irritate the Dragon Lady now she had shown herself to be so 'nice', because for her doing, _not_ being exceptionally impossible was actually tantamount to being bearable, Andy reckoned. She had no pen, only her eyes and ears. Then again, Andy was there to listen only anyway. She didn't look at Miranda or anyone else either for that matter, instead keeping her eyes upon her boots mostly. From her position against the hard wall, she could hear every individual voice very clearly still, though –– no matter if she wasn't right in the middle of the conversation so to speak. As she did so, Andy noted how a soft burr and cadence gently accentuated Miranda Priestly's tone when it wasn't so sharp. Andy was amazed to realize this, for she never had when Miranda had been her superior at _Runway_. Then again –– most of the time, her tone had been rather biting when she addressed Andy, though. So, maybe that wasn't too surprising. Miranda's tone was, of course, still professional as she gave her orders, but very different to when she spoke with her assistants –– or, rather snapped at them.

Andy caught herself wondering if her tone might give away more of that burr when she was with her family, and she mentally slapped herself for letting her weird mind go down that route. _Miranda wasn't the type of person who could fall in love and do all that, become a different being. No way._ From there on, she forced herself to focus on the exact words and exact sentences said only, nothing underneath, hoping to find some inspiration that could make at least a paragraph in her article.

At one, the meeting broke up, all the writers leaving with their own copious amount of notes that had to be fixed and rewritten as soon as was possible. Miranda stood first, once she had concluded the meeting, and stressed she wanted the rewritten articles no later than by the end of the week –– which was only barely humanly possible, she knew. She strode from the room portentously without looking at anyone at all. Andy momentarily wondered if she was being given the silent treatment, but was there even a difference with how she usually behaved… with everyone?

Recalling that Miranda's next meeting was at two, she didn't see the point of staying while Miranda had something to eat, so she went to get her coat and her handbag and left the building, feeling like just grabbing a quick sandwich somewhere.

She walked over to one of the free tables to eat her Subway Club, when her phone began buzzing in her handbag, so Andy moved fast, setting her tray down and hoping to get a hold of the thing before the call got disconnected. She managed in time –– although only _just_ –– pushing the button to accept and holding her phone to her ear with a hand while undoing her coat with the other. Her mom and dad sure had a peculiar way of calling whenever she was getting something to eat, but then again these were exactly the times they knew Andy was most likely to be available.

"Hello! Mom!" She could hear creaking on the other end, which told her that her dad had just picked up the other handset to listen along. She wondered why he was at home at this hour. It sometimes happened that when he only had cases in the afternoon he didn't bother going into the office in the morning, she recalled. That was customary with his colleagues as well. That must be it.

*Hi, honey! How're you doing? You're having a lunch break now, aren't you?*

"Yeah," Andy replied and sat down finally after having managed to worm her coat off and hang it over the back of her chair. "I'm in town having a sandwich at Subway. I just sat down, but… I'm good. How're you guys doing over there?"

*We're good, honey,* Richard's deep baritone replied. Whatever more he wanted to say was interrupted by her mother.

*We heard from your aunt that you ordered something for Aiden! Where did you find it?*

"I didn't," Andy said. "I, uhm… I came across it online. The ad popped onto the screen right after I mailed something to my boss from, eh, home." Andy kept her mouth shut regarding what. They knew about the first article, and that John had asked her to write another concerning Miranda Priestly, but they were not exactly fans of the Dragon Lady, and more often than not the mere mention of her name caused irritation and curt tones from both her mom and dad. She shouldn't have expected any less, after the many times Andy had nagged on about her since the beginning. I thought that Aiden might maybe like it. Aunt Stella said that he's mentioned it a few times, so yeah…"

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

All was just in Andy's favor, wasn't it? She couldn't have walked any faster without running; nonetheless, Miranda's car left the curb just as she arrived at Elias-Clark, mere feet away only. Miranda hadn't even waited. Then, again, why the Hell should she wait for her? Gah! Miranda Priestly was always the one who held the ropes, after all. She shouldn't have anticipated to be waited for if Andy had thought about it rationally.

Still in the middle of the sidewalk, she held up her arm and pushed her sleeve aside to look at what the time was, confirming it wasn't even five to two yet. _Well, fuck it,_ she thought. She had no idea whatsoever where the appointment was, so she couldn't just go after her, if Andy had wanted. Even if she had, it would certainly not be the done thing to go after her and then burst in. What would she even say there? " _I'm with Miranda Priestly, but kind of individually, too._ "? She sighed and eyed the high building where Elias-Clark publications resided. She knew that she could do little in there, too. Miranda would later be dropped off at her townhouse to ready herself for a party –– one of those occurrences where she would wear dresses about the worth of Andy's entire wardrobe, all she had gathered during her year at _Runway_ included.

She thought of going home, but then decided to make use of the free afternoon to go and look at a dress she had seen in the window of a store on Lexington Avenue when she had passed by for Miranda's roasted pigeon the day before. It definitely had been fashionable –– more so than she would have worn for instance two years ago, but it wasn't _very_ daring. Wearable, in short, even for Andréa Sachs. She would go and check whether it was as beautiful as she remembered, and, of course, if so, whether she could in fact afford it. That would most likely be the most hazardous aspect of it. Oh well. It had been quite a while since Andy had bought something for herself. So, she began to walk in the opposite direction of home.

The dress actually appeared to have been nothing for her anyway, but Andy visited more stores and bought a pair of nice, reasonably priced wedge-heeled sandals in a light beige she thought would fit with a lot of her clothes, and a lovely summery tank top in a warm bluish-green color, with silver decorations in a line down the middle of her back, making it look just like it had to be fastened with a zipper while actually, it hadn't.

Finding her items easier to carry than she had the day prior for Miranda, she thought she would enjoy walking back to her apartment instead of going by the subway. There were a few more stores in that direction, too. Maybe she would come across something else that was nice for her.

When she passed by Elias-Clark on her route home, Andy couldn't help but look at the high building and curse internally at Miranda Priestly. _Vicious monster_. That's when she noticed her. Francesca was seated on a lower step of the staircase, head leaning tiredly against the balustrade. She looked like she had lost consciousness, or if not then would very soon. Any little bit better she had looked that morning, had disappeared. She looked much like she had when she had arrived the morning prior, in fact. Andy halted at the pedestrian crossroads and waited until the light for walkers popped on before crossing the street and walking the rest of the distance to Elias-Clark. "Hey," she greeted, once she reached the staircase.

Francesca, who had had her eyes closed until then, slightly moved her head to look at the other woman. "Hello," she said, struggling to sit slightly more upright –– she thought this more polite than hanging like she was. "I still feel a bit weaker than I thought…"

"Have you had anything to eat today at all?" Andy wondered, squatting down beside her.

Francesca's head immediately shook, no. She seemed to look rather disgusted at the thought. "I didn't dare to. Nothing I ate yesterday would stay down, so… Oh gosh, and I've still got to wait on that damn Book. I wish I could just go home and crawl into bed again. I feel like death warmed over, and although I actually did manage some sleep last night, I woke often."

Andy nodded. "You've most likely caught a stupid stomach bug."

"Gah… What happened to The Book yesterday?"

"Emily delivered it," Andy said, her head shaking in a way that meant she didn't have to worry about it. "If you would like to go home now, go ahead. I don't have anything to do tonight, and I have managed to sleep in this morning for once, so if you give me the townhouse key, I'll wait here for The Book and go deliver it for you. She'll still be at that great party, so Miranda never need know even."

"Really?"

_Oh yes, really_. Emily hadn't said a word when Andy informed her Francesca had still felt weak and had gone home, leaving her to take care of The Book that night, so that Emily didn't have to wait either. Emily's glare had been rather murderous, though. Then again, it rarely wasn't. It had spoken of the dangerous fire Andy was toying with by doing this kind of stuff behind Miranda's back. Oh well. She couldn't care less about Emily Charlton's opinions. Instead, she just grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and wrote down a couple items to mention in her next article, then surfed the net to read the Cincinnati newspaper online.

The Book wasn't ready until eleven that night –– one of _Runway_ 's writers had most likely tried to do some last minute cramming, Andy guessed. That was the only reason she could find. Once it had finally arrived, she called Roy with the regular phone. He would be there in less than fifteen to take her to Miranda's townhouse to leave The Book and then take her home.

She smiled to herself, then laid the horn down and went to get her coat and handbag before going down to await wait for him. He didn't leave the shiny silver Mercedes to open the door for her as he would have done for Miranda, but she liked that. She had often told him so, that she was capable enough to do it herself on those nights that seemed like a lifetime ago now when she would deliver The Book daily. She could feel how Roy's eyes burnt on her through the rearview mirror. "I'm afraid that Francesca caught a mild stomach bug, so I'm here to step in for her again."

"Emily mentioned that you already took over her duties yesterday, too," Roy said.

"Oh?" Andy wondered, surprised that she would have shared that with Roy… She must have spoken more than two words when not strictly necessary then. Maybe he had asked. That was most logical.

"Yeah. She told me why you were there. I really had no idea, and I couldn't exactly ask you what with Miranda in the car either when I drove you."

"I agree," Andy replied, a smile rising on her features. The look she would have given her… It definitely was nearly comical that she could clearly imagine Miranda Priestly enraged… but altogether, maybe it wasn't. She had only ever seen those looks. It might have been rather strange if she hadn't remembered them, in fact.

"I quite liked the article."

For the rest of the drive to Miranda's luxurious townhouse, they made some small talk; about how Andy's new life was at _Life Today_ , and how she enjoyed being a writer for a magazine more than she had had for the newspaper, unlike her adulthood dream. She had always thought that being with The New Yorker would be it all. She spoke, too, of how she secretly had doubted whether or not she should go for the job but was really glad that she had done it. The drive ended slightly too soon for her liking, though. Before long, Roy halted at Miranda's townhouse, and the two became silent. Andy sighed and slowly took The Book from beside her before leaving the Mercedes and walking up the stairs, as she looked for the key.

_Miranda won't be home_ , she kept repeating to herself as Andy let herself in, her right hand trembling slightly as she unlocked the door. She walked over to the one table with the flowers she knew to be the right one now. She needed to just leave The Book here and would be able to leave again. There was no dry-cleaning tonight, so she quietly laid The Book down on the table –– as if she were frightened to accidentally stir the mighty lioness _just_ in case. She turned and made to leave, when a curt voice suddenly sounded from the living room. "In here."

"Oh shit," she muttered to herself and clamped her eyes shut in absolute terror. She knew that leaving the lioness waiting would just enrage her more, though… so she turned to where the voice had come from, willingly subjecting herself to Miranda Priestly and whatever she had in store for Andréa Sachs.

She halted by the doorway, finding Miranda seated on the couch, pushed into a corner of the room. She had a fancy magazine in her lap and looked over her glasses. Andy could somehow tell it wasn't an issue of _Runway._ "You again," she noted in a tone dripping with venom; then she sighed and waved her hand impatiently to urge Andy further into the room with impatience.

Andy halted a short distance from the beige couch, resisting the temptation to bite down on her bottom lip. She really just wanted to walk away from there unharmed –– _run_ , maybe rather. She somehow knew the reprimand was coming now, whether she liked it or not. She was going to be told that she had taken one step too far and had had no right to do what she had at all, that she would have to go back to Cincinnati now and go work in the supermarket, because Miranda Priestly would make sure that Andy would never–– the same curt voice broke through her train of thought, though.

"No Book?" she wondered, tongue sharper even than a razor. "You believe I'm interested in _you_?"

"I left it on the table; you know, with the fl––"

"Please, keep on babbling a hole in my head with little helpful excuses and just remain gawking there while you do, instead of getting The Damn Book. You know just how I adore unnecessarily slow action. Please, walk slower than usual."

Andy turned and all but ran into the hallway once more to go and retrieve The Book and take it to Miranda.

When she walked back into the living room, Miranda had laid the unknown magazine down on the low coffee table beside the new couch, and as she saw Andy enter the room again, she immediately extended her hand for The Book. Andy really hoped that she would _finally_ be allowed to leave now. She had just said it –– she wasn't interested in Andy, so… Why was she home anyway? She began to wonder whether the party had been so boring, even allowing for the fact that she never stayed long. If Miranda Priestly attended your party at all, that was truly a great privilege.

Andy watched as Miranda flipped the cover slowly, then stilled, suddenly looking at her. "They do suit you," she said. Andy's brow furrowed as she looked down at herself, not being able to guess what Miranda might have possibly meant, when she clarified with a sigh, her tone impatient as it did usually. "The boots, _Ahn-dre-ah_."

"Oh," Andy uttered, looking up at the Dragon Lady again. "They're Caravelle. Tha––"

"I do know they are. I selected them myself from the collection two years ago."

Andy was speechless. The thought of taking them off and handing them back suddenly crossed her mind, before she had the chance to dismiss it as utter nonsense. Then her second thought was to apologize, but after having worked for Miranda, you knew that apologies meant absolutely nothing. Again, she just… furiously hoped that Miranda would let her go now, let her leave to never set foot in that damn house again. Then, however, Miranda spoke. "Oh, it is rather remarkable how you stepped in to help the Ardens-girl, while clearly she's incapable." She gazed right at Andy when she said this, and Andy felt suddenly like she was being x-rayed somehow, or maybe having her mind read.

Andy discovered she couldn't keep her own eyes off of Miranda Priestly either. She doubted whether the Dragon Lady would have gone to the exclusive party tonight in what she was dressed in now. She most likely had exchanged her dress of grandeur, that had undoubtedly fitted marvelously and had her looking stunning, for something a little more comfortable. She didn't seem to have taken off her perfect, softened makeup, though. She assumed that the pearl drop earrings had accompanied whatever dress she had worn to the party earlier, as had the matching bracelet lying delicately across her right hand. She looked breathtaking still.

Unlike Andy, Miranda didn't appear to feel comfortable under the scrutiny. Andy knew the Ice Queen didn't like to be the object of anyone's gawking for long, not even in awe, and she knew that she was most likely one of the least favorite people in Miranda's world right now… but she couldn't keep her hazel eyes off her, couldn't help but gaze at how beautifully the dim light from overhead, shining down from an undoubtedly incredibly expensive lamp, danced upon those high cheekbones set in flawless milky skin, splayed upon that exceptionally well-defined jaw line…

Fuck it, her gaze slid lower, down to the lines of Miranda's blouse and how it lay open nonchalantly, farther than her attire usually would at _Runway_ , and she seemed comfortable enough with it, more relaxed than she had seen her in quite a while actually, regardless of the clipped tone she had used –– this time not after having had a good cry in her grey bathrobe, but almost… serene.

She seemed more open then in a way. Suddenly, Andy could imagine Miranda Priestly as a regular woman besides the _Runway_ career, see her in a totally different light –– one she had never bore witness to before. Maybe not really working for her any longer, while privileged –– oh yes, this definitely was a privilege! –– to see her like this, might have made the change in perspective.

Of course, it didn't mean she could see the woman behind the career as warm and tender all of a sudden –– no, the woman behind it all could certainly be unkind and bitchy still. However, in this unexpected perspective, she could imagine her smile slightly, and Andy caught herself wondering how a real, rich laugh would sound coming from these lips –– not that always ironic laugh. She looked again and wondered how it would sound coming from these slightly parted pinkish lips… and Andy realized she was actually gazing in _that_ way at Miranda Fucking Priestly… the way she had only looked at men until that very moment. She wondered what the matter with her was, to look at a woman who had the names Ice Queen and Dragon Lady not at all without reason.

Her hazel eyes flashed up to meet Miranda's blue ones, and she could swear she saw a flicker of, of… _something_ in them. Was it a rage she had never encountered before? Then, a creaking sound from the stairs sounded faintly in the living room, followed by the pad of bare feet on tiles.

Miranda blinked, looking in the direction of the doorway and then calling, "Caroline? Cassidy?" Andy turned slightly to note a rather disheveled twin enter the doorway, dressed in a soft blue nightdress. "Cassidy," Miranda said, and Andy wondered how she could know the difference no matter if she was their mother. She would never be able to, Andy was sure. She then furiously hoped that if she ever had children, she would never have twins. She could see the girl's eyes flicker towards her fleetingly then focus on her mother as she spoke, "What are you doing down now, at this late hour? I assume that Caroline's awake, too? Tomorrow is a regular school day, young lady, meaning you'll be expected to rise and shine in less than seven hours. You know that Mommy doesn't particularly like grumpy burgers at dawn."

Andy frowned at the more informal speech she used with her daughter, no matter how piercing her voice still was. Caroline and Cassidy meant the world to Miranda Priestly, she knew –– everyone knew. She quietly eyed the girl, finding it was highly likely that it had indeed been Miranda's daughters that time at McDonald's.

"Caroline's still asleep. I was thirsty, and I only had a little left… I really thought there was more in it when I got upstairs."

"You could have filled a glass of water from your bathroom," Miranda reasoned.

"I don't like water from the tap…" Cassidy argued. _Ah, Miranda Priestly's daughter indeed._ "I was only just coming to get another bottle of water from the fridge. Please, Mom?"

Miranda sighed, nodding slightly. "Alright, Bobbsey," she said, "just be quiet when you go upstairs again, so you don't wake your sister as well."

Both women remained silent, as Cassidy's nodded then turned to disappear into the hallway. They could hear her bare feet go further, then the door of the fridge open before falling shut once again, more bare feet on tiles, and then finally the sound of the stairs creaking, indicating that she had gone straight upstairs, just as Miranda had asked. Andy was brought from her thoughts as a cold voice cut through the air.

"Well?" Miranda wondered. "Don't you have to return to your what-you-call-a-home as well? Or maybe you would like to stay tonight? I bet Roy is waiting."

Andy's mouth opened in shock, catching herself just in time. "Goodnight!" she blurted, before virtually running from the living room without looking back. Tears blurred her vision, as she realized that yes, despite having never been with a woman at all, she would have liked to stay and to learn… with, with _Miranda Priestly_.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

She tried to keep her tears at bay as she knocked on the window of the Mercedes' passenger door, and Roy wound it down so he could hear her. "Hi," she began, hoping that her voice sounded less strangled to his ears than it did to hers. Her voice sounded like this when she had just cried, was still in tears or would be very soon. "I'm going to…" She inhaled very deeply, "walk the rest of the way home," she said.

Roy's brow furrowed. "You sure?" he questioned. "That's a rather long way to your apartment."

"Yeah, I know," Andy agreed, "I'm sorry for keeping you waiting here for nothing."

"Well, if you're absolutely sure…" Roy said. He trailed off to let her change her mind if she wanted. She didn't. "Well, goodnight." She merely nodded without saying so much as a word. He slid the window up once more, nodded at her politely and revved the engine to life, leaving the curb and rolling from the street, from sight… leaving her to herself as she had requested. It definitely was a long way, but she hadn't really wanted to burst into tears with him. She knew that she wouldn't even have been able to hold her tears for two seconds, and as she thought this she realized that the first tear had already slid down over her cheek. She reached up to wipe it away irritably, but more just followed.

Central Park wasn't very far, though. She began to walk, just looking at her shoes and not noticing anything or anyone as she did. She forced herself not to break down entirely in the middle of the street. She urged herself to go on, refused to let her thoughts dwell on Miranda Priestly. She pushed her ruminations aside, instead letting her mind go to Aiden and how happy he would be when his new Hummer car arrived. To her own gratefulness, more thoughts and memories of her young godson spilled into her mind, and she vividly remembered the day he had been born, and then before when she had been asked to be his godmother… Aunt Stella had been seven months along. Andy had visited to see how she was doing, when her aunt had given her a small package and urged her to open it. When she had done, she had discovered that it contained a tiny onesie, with the printed text, "Will you be my godmom?"

She remembered how she had been waiting so long in the hospital hallway, cringing as her aunt had screamed at the top of her lungs when pushing Aiden from her body that night. She vividly remembered the look on Alex's face listening to that as well and laughed through her tears. Alex's face had been priceless.

Before she realized it, she had arrived in Central Park. She noticed a man with his dog on the leash, and a young woman taking her presumably last run for the day. Sitting down on the first bench she crossed, she noticed the two on the other side of the field were occupied by two seemingly homeless guys, curled up tightly on them. She knew that they were just two of so many more souls who had lost more than they had gained in life. Her heart always ached seeing this.

It ached even more than ever at that point, though… for entirely other reasons. As she looked to the dark sky dotted with shimmering stars, Andy's tears began to flow more without her even realizing it. Aiden was replaced by the image of Miranda sitting on the couch, the light flickering softly behind her… Andy's tears began to flow harder as she remembered looking upon Miranda Priestly's austere beauty. Tears were soon joined by sobs, and she lost control in her confusion… What was the matter with her?

Miranda Priestly obviously couldn't share the same feelings… Hang on, were there feelings even? Were there actual, romantic feelings? Were there 'feelings' from Andy? Were there 'feelings' at all from the Dragon Lady, or was she entirely incapable of love, as many thought and sometimes said her to be? She knew that both men and women alike, eyed her with eyes full of want at exclusive parties. She didn't doubt that there were women who wanted Miranda Priestly the way Andy did, but… she had always only liked guys… before now!

The tears wouldn't stop as she considered whether her thoughts about Miranda so often as of late, could be because of _feelings_ she harbored without even realizing it. She wondered whether she had always _looked at_ Miranda that way, but only realized it now. She wondered whether she had always _wanted_ Miranda that way, but only realized it now. When had it begun? When the Hell had she begun to want those lips that badly, and had she wanted to know what it was like to be with a woman, with Miranda in particular?

She had always been accepting of gays and lesbians and the like, because to Andy, people should be allowed to love whoever they wanted, though she knew as well that a lot of others understood little of that and only condoned a relationship between a man and a woman as a consequence of it. She remembered how the gay girls and boys had always been picked upon in college, how they had often sat alone to eat.

Andréa Sachs couldn't be gay, though. Andy had always only been interested in boys, felt those feelings for boys, had looked at boys in that same way she had caught herself gazing at Miranda earlier. She had truly loved Nate, hadn't she? Had all of it been a lie? Had she always been secretly gay and was that why it hadn't worked in the end?

_No_ , Andy scolded herself. It hadn't worked between them because they had wanted different lives when it came down to it.

Andy had been into boys her entire life, had never thought about another woman in that way, so… why now? She wasn't following her own train of thought anymore. Why Miranda? Why, of all women who existed, did it have to be Miranda Fucking Priestly, the Dragon Lady, the Ice Queen, the…? _Oh, fuck it_. Maybe she had been lonely for too long and had therefore just…? It didn't make sense! _She_ didn't make sense! If it had been from loneliness, then why hadn't she taken John home or gone to his residence, when he admitted he liked Andy and when the kiss has become more heated… to the point of warranting a double bed? She hadn't, though. She hadn't, and that made all the difference. Maybe… maybe she hadn't gone home with him because of all that she secretly felt for Miranda Priestly already? She had always been able to tell when… when she had fallen for boys. Maybe this was a first difference? One of many, possibly. How many, though? How different was life like with a woman in that way?

She felt more confused than she had ever been in her entire life before, and she felt silly for it. She felt absolutely pathetic, for not being able to make any sense at all of herself. She had thought that being in her twenties, she would have known who she was, or at least in terms of the aspect of her sexuality. She had thought of herself as heterosexual for so long. She had never felt anything for a woman, not even in her teenage years. Then this rich and famous woman came into her life in a rather unexpected way, digging the blood from right under her nails, commanding her how one would only a dog. It all came tumbling down now. Nothing was true of that anymore; _everything_ seemed to have changed with that little realization. The fact that Miranda Priestly wasn't someone who you could dig 'further' into if Andy ever came to terms with the situation, didn't make it any easier at all.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25 (Thursday, April 26, 2007)

Of course, Andy didn't sleep much that night; strange thoughts and worries continuing to run through her head. She had only managed to fall asleep in the early hours of the morning but still woke a couple of times after. Altogether, Andy had maybe two hours sleep or less before her alarm sounded. _Oh, bugger._

Andy reached for it blindly, turning the terribly annoying sound off, years of having done exactly that without having ever changed the position of the thing having helped her accuracy. She retracted her hand, and she knew that she wouldn't go to _Runway_ today. The mere thought of getting up and having to make herself look acceptable was too much –– she was sure she looked like a ghost who had been lying awake a great deal of the night, endlessly worrying. The mere thought of facing Miranda made her stomach lurch and want to vomit, getting rid of whatever she had last eaten that had not been digested thus far. She willed the elder woman from her thoughts… but found that like the night prior, that was not possible. She groaned, wondering whether knocking her head against the hard headboard might make her lose consciousness, freeing her from all those thought and worries in one go.

She sighed, opening her eyes and looking at the ceiling, at how the rays of sunshine splayed on it nicely, having peeked their persistent way into the dark room despite the rather early hour. She hadn't taken the time to reset her alarm the night before for obvious reasons, which is why it had already gone off.

No, she would not leave her studio today. She would not be very useful anyway, with this acute lack of peaceful sleep and a certain woman on her busy mind. She very much doubted that even if something interesting in regard to the article, something new, would actually come up, that she would have the right mind to even notice or remember it, if she didn't write it alldown. After all, Miranda didn't care about her being at _Runway_ or not anyway –– maybe she was glad she wasn't there even. Miranda Priestly didn't care about her in any way. The day before had shown exactly that, with her just taking off without Andy, no? Miranda Priestly cared about herself, her twin daughters and _Runway_ only, and that… was most likely it.

She closed her eyes and sighed, moving her forearm over her eyes to shield them from the rays of morning sunshine already battling through closed eyelids and doing funny things to her brain, like making crazy patterns on the back of her eyelids, twisting and turning like mad. Maybe, maybe… if she _just_ didn't have to see her anymore, those strange thoughts would just go away. Admiration and lust lay close together, she knew. In a great many aspects, the Dragon Lady wasn't a woman Andy admired, but no matter what, she had already achieved a lot… Plus, you just couldn't deny the fact that she was a beautiful dragon. Add to that her respectable age… and the fact that she had had twin daughters after having carried them for about nine months, having stretched her in certain spots under weight gain. Oh yes, considering all that she was terribly attractive. You had to be blind not to notice this. Add Andy's great celibacy. Yeah, that must be the combination for any other woman, gay, straight or maybe bisexual to get mightily fucked up, too.

Andy sighed. She had to admit that ever since she began working at _Runway_ , and no matter her vicious nature, Miranda Priestly _always_ looked insanely close to impeccable. By the firm contours of her face, the lack of smiles and a seriousness always there deep within her blue eyes, one could tell that Miranda was a tough businesswoman, though. The way in which her face was set was a dead giveaway, as well as that purposeful way in which she walked, without dallying or running. You would have to be stupid to even consider her anything less than _perfect_ once you had seen the woman, let alone spoken with her.

She groaned. _Great_. Andy's silly mind wouldn't give her a rest at all now, wondering if Miranda Priestly had a passionate side and how it was like being… _No._ What would it be like seeing Miranda Priestly at the height of passion? Was she a screamer? _No, Andy! No! No!_ She found herself wondering whether the Dragon Lady liked sex as much as Andy did, or if she was one of these women who only opened their legs because they felt like they had to for their husbands and never really liked it. She found herself wondering if she loved to be on top, too… and at that particular point, she wished she had just slammed her head against the headboard already, gone into a coma or whatever… This creature was positively overtaking Andy's mind.

She realized that her stomach hadn't even made the least of noise as yet. Usually, it would have begun to fight at that point already, not having had much food. That morning, it didn't. She was not hungry at all, nor thirsty. She wasn't in the mood for anything either, she didn't know how she felt. She didn't know much at that point.

As Andy rolled onto her left side again, turning away from the alarm clock, she surmised that she could have gone to _Life Today_ instead, when she had decided not to go to _Runway_. She could at least have made herself useful. However, she didn't _feel_ like getting from bed only to struggle to the bathroom and get herself to look decent. She knew what she _didn't_ particularly feel like doing at least. Andy didn't feel like leaving her apartment at all, although she knew that it wouldn't make for a useful day ahead, just staying in bed the entire time.

Everyone at _Life Today_ would undoubtedly have asked questions if she had gone in and returned a day earlier than anticipated, and she… just couldn't have faced it now. She guessed she could have found some believable excuse, could have said that maybe she already had so many ideas for the new article that she had chosen not to observe anymore so as not to get her off track… but John definitely would have questioned her appearance. John undoubtedly would have asked Andy about those many ideas, would have somehow teased her into telling the truth without even trying in the end. What was the truth, though? "I couldn't concentrate anymore, because I believe that I might be falling in love with the Dragon Lady"? "I believe I might love Miranda Priestly"? Was it already love, if it wasn't just admiration?

_How_ could anyone even fall for a woman who was so impossible? Andy guessed that the stunning-despite-age appearance was a good plus already, and of course the fact that she was successful at basically all that she did. She had very little to no kindness or understanding in her, though. How then, in dear heavens, could she fall for a person who had only ever treated her like crap and like she was the most stupid and ugly creature that had ever existed? Andy's head shook. That's how Andy had always felt around her –– then and now again. Could she fall in any way for a woman whom she didn't even know whether she had a good and kind side, let alone, had seen that side from? _Fuck!_ How had this happened –– mostly, _what had_?

Andréa Sachs was more confused than she had ever been in her entire life. She couldn't make sense of this, of herself. She seriously doubted that anyone who knew her crazy thoughts would be able to make a lot of sense of them either.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!

* * *

**Author's Note : **We're halfway today! I furiously hope Chapters 26-49 will encourage some more followers to review this...


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

The time had reached close to eleven when Andy Sachs finally managed to drag herself from her bed. Somehow, she knew that nightmares had plagued her few more hours of sleep, but she couldn't remember them in any single way. She barely ever remembered, so it wasn't that much of a surprise, but she felt that gnawing sense of… _anxiousness_ they always left behind. She didn't have to guess for long who or what might have been the subject of them, though. Therefore, she was secretly glad that she had no recollection –– it would only have caused Andy more confusion and reason to worry.

By the time she had had a warm shower and had got dressed after she had brushed her teeth, Andy realized that she was a bit hungry. So she moved to the freezer above the small refrigerator and rummaged until she came across a pizza to heat in her very cheap and therefore crappy oven. It wouldn't be the very best lunch she ever had, but it would do. Andréa Sachs wasn't the sort of woman who couldn't be happy with less than tha.

Once she had set the pizza in the oven to heat up, she ran down to check her mailbox, only finding ad papers in there. Instead of throwing them away as she usually did, Andy chose to take them to the fourth floor, where her studio was. There was a special drawer located underneath the mailboxes that was especially meant for that type of undesired post, because most of the people who lived there didn't like ads and threw them away at once without a second look.

Every week, it was cleared by the same cleaning people who came to take care of the communal areas like the hallways and the garage in the cellar, where the huge containers were where all owners and renters were supposed to leave their trash bags. Unfortunately enough, due to the number of people who lived there and who continually ran back and forth in the building, it was as dirty as it was two days earlier on cleaning day. In the many years she had lived in that studio, she had had the chance to see the building 'clean' only a few times, and she had always been amazed at how well those people did their jobs and how dust and dirt free everything always was for a little while. She had often wondered if maybe she could pay them to come clean her studio as well, but had always dismissed the thought just as quickly.

She was leafing through the ad papers slowly, sipping from a glass of orange juice at the kitchen counter, as she patiently waited for the pizza to be done so that she could eat, when the sound of her cell phone suddenly reached Andy. She was stunned into a stupor for a few seconds, before setting the tall glass down on the counter and running off to the bedroom, where she knew her mobile device lay on the bedside table.

Driven by her need to get to her cell phone, Andy didn't even look at the screen to see who was calling before she accepted, holding the phone straight to her ear. Her heart sunk as she recognized John Englund's familiar voice.

*Andy? Are you all right?*

"John!" she exclaimed, sitting down on the edge of the bed, stunned to hear his voice. "Yeah, I–– I'm fine. Why are you calling? Is something the matter over there?" She could feel her heart race, beating against her ribcage as an intense fear took a hold of her. She seriously doubted whether the fact she had taken the day off and John calling was a mere coincidence.

*Andy! I just received a call from Miranda Priestly, requesting to know why you aren't at _Runway_ , because she was rather certain that the schedule stated Monday to Thursday. She said she had tried to call you already, but you didn't take it.*

"Oh… I must have been showering when she did," Andy truthfully said and moved her hand to her head. She _definitely_ hadn't heard her mobile phone. Later on, she would discover she had indeed missed a call from an unknown number. Even if Andy had heard, she would most likely not have taken it anyway. Too many salesmen had called her in her life with an unknown number. She only took the phone now when she recognized the number or had it stored in the phonebook –– Andy had a lot of numbers saved, though. It didn't happen very often that someone whom she knew called her with a number she didn't have stored.

*Why aren't you at _Runway_? You sound a little different from usual, too,* John noted. Even over the phone, he could read her somehow. *Are you sure that you are all right?*

"I, ah…" She, of course, couldn't tell him the real reason. She wasn't entirely surprised to hear that John thought she sounded different, though. Andy had been shocked to hear her own voice a few seconds ago, too –– it had been the first time she spoke aloud since she had told Roy she would walk home the night before. She supposed that her weeping and lack of sleep were responsible for it sounding hoarse and slightly nasal and just _off_. She wasn't entirely sorry, though. It did make lying that much easier. She doubted whether she could have done it to his face, however. "I'm not well," she said –– it wasn't entirely lying. "I, uhm, I have a mighty headache, and my throat just doesn't feel right. I hope that I'll be over it in a day or so." Her head did feel full, heavy. Her throat was still swollen and sore from extensively crying and at the same time trying to keep as much of it at bay.

*Why didn't you call Miranda?*

"I haven't been from bed for long," Andy said, truthfully again.

*Ah, that does make sense. Well, I do hope it is as you say, and that you'll feel better tomorrow again. If not, call and take a day off. Please call, though. Otherwise, I'll be worried.*

"You… don't need to worry in any way. However," Andy said. "I will call, if I don't feel better. I, ah… I'm going to get some more rest, I reckon. Bye."

She hung up even before John had had the chance to say goodbye to her in return. She fell back on the mattress, her eyes fluttering shut. Miranda Priestly seemed to somehow have missed Andy after all –– well, _noticed_ her not being there, at least. Miranda was undoubtedly above all those emotions that didn't get you anywhere, like missing… They helped no one.

At least she had cared enough to call her and then John to ask where she was at. Andy's eyes shot open, and a cold laugh left her throat as she shook her head. No, she hadn't cared about her presence. She had most likely just seen it as a perfect excuse, to emphasize Andy's great ineptitude to keep to the schedule or at least inform when she couldn't for ridiculous reasons such as 'being ill'. Maybe staying home hadn't been the right decision after all. Maybe that is what Miranda had wanted, had needed in order to tell her again how hopeless she was in this particular business. Andy was sure that's what Miranda thought and intended to make everyone else see, too. She reveled in the misfortune of those below her so much. Andy knew. Everyone knew.

The smell of the pizza that was now nearly ready to leave the oven, of melted cheese and ham, of spicy tomato sauce and pineapple, wafted up her nostrils from the kitchen, but it didn't interest her any longer. Her stupid thoughts had gotten the better of her again. _You're so stupid_ , _Andy._

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27 (Friday, April 27, 2007) 

Andy Sachs was glad at how easily they had all slipped back into their regular routine again. She had got to _Life Today_ first, as usual, and had got to business right away. John had told her to focus solely on observing Miranda Priestly and on gathering ideas for the new article and just take time off from the day-to-day of _Life Today_. She had done just that, but it of course left her with a lot of work now, having to read through so many articles… Andy would just finish over the weekend what she didn't manage to do that day, but she, of course, hoped to be get a good deal done before then. It wasn't that she had a lover or family nearby to waste away the weekend with, but still, Andy wanted as little to do as possible.

While she had hoped to be done worrying her head over Miranda Priestly, she definitely didn't seem too successful at it. The rest of the day prior, she had just been thinking and re-thinking the same thoughts and notions. As evening had fallen, she had found her old iPod Nano in a drawer of a living room closet, had changed into somewhat more sporty attires and gone for a jog, mouthing to the words of the songs in her ears, skipping to the next if there was a 'sad' one that could possibly get her over-thinking again. When she had come home after an hour and a half, she had been rather exhausted. Her thoughts hadn't trailed to Miranda as she cleaned her living area just a tad, nor when she showered off the sweat. Later on when she set the alarm, Andy checked her phone one last time for any messages or missed calls and fell asleep without further ado –– and without Miranda Priestly even crossing her mind again.

Her mind had been relatively Miranda-free until she had arrived at _Life Today_. Once there, somehow the Dragon Lady had come interrupting her thoughts again like an avalanche, the number of mails in her inbox and files to be read through reminding her of her four day absence, the reason for it and where she had been instead for those four –– well, technically three –– days.

John's arrival and numerous questions about what it had been like at _Runway_ hadn't helped her at all. He had, of course, asked about her ideas for the new article, and Andy had halfway lied about it –– only halfway –– telling him she did have some in mind for it, but hadn't gotten to it yet. The hadn't-gotten-to-it-yet bit was definitely true, though. He had wondered how Andy was feeling, too. She had halfway lied again, telling him she was doing fine. Physically, she was. Emotionally, Andy Sachs was far from herself; from the person whom she had been when no mention had been made yet of 'Women at the Top of the Chain' and an accompanying article. She fleetingly wondered whether the change might be permanent, whether she would never return to whom she was before those articles… if her silly mind would always be full of Miranda in one way or another from now.

'Fashion' was a no-go as a job for her, considering it too often lead to Miranda Priestly. Maybe she should just… quit her job at _Life Today_ as well and refrain from ever getting jobs that had to do with writing as well, to make sure she would never be confronted with this crap again. Andy passed the thought off as ridiculous. Once this was all over with, her mind would turn back to its Miranda-free state, and Andy would be reminded of how very much she loved journalism again. This was just her anxiety featuring Miranda in her mind like that, and making _everything_ scarier than it already was for her. She had lost count now of the times she had concluded something _different_ about those weird feelings for Miranda Priestly, and if she would have to list them: from fearing she was falling in love with her, to being absolutely sure she was sane and that it was her mind tricking her into it… it would only have pointed at madness. If she had written every thought regarding Miranda Priestly down over the last few days, she might have laughed herself to death re-reading them, with their many contradictions. Any reader would have thought her emotionally unstable, while really she knew very well what she wanted and didn't consider herself whiny or overly emotional at all, or… was she?

John had bought it and welcomed her back again before going into his office, having stopped by Andy's first thing. She had been nearly relieved to see him go, to not be asked more questions… although she had been glad that there was no awkwardness between her and the Editor-in-Chief. Last time she had seen the man, they had _kissed_ and she had rejected him for no obvious reason… Last time she had seen her superior, she had come home fearing it would never be the same again between them because of it. No, she was very glad that they seemed to have worked so easily passed that little incident, and a surge of respect and innocent companionship flared for him as she realized this.

By noon, Andy had managed to read through two articles that had been sent to her for correcting and proof reading. Miranda occasionally still rushed through her mind, though, which had made it much more difficult to focus and to keep reading without losing the meaning of words. True, neither of the articles had been very close to her interests, but their style was rather good, and she _usually_ didn't get so inattentive even over the most boring (to her) subject. She reckoned that the best writers should have managed to keep her thoughts solely focused on what she was reading and not that woman running through her head, too…

Andy leaned back in her chair, just having sent the second file through to John, and considered the idea of getting a sandwich downtown. The thought of asking Erica and Robert to join her fleetingly crossed her mind, but then the awfully great possibility of her lunch break involving lots of questions about Runway did, too –– after all, they had been very excited to learn Andy was going back there even if only for observation –– and she dismissed that thought nearly as soon as that it had entered her mind. No, she best go alone. Her gaze shot to the clock in the bottom right corner of her computer screen, figuring that John wouldn't make a big deal of it if she took her lunch break earlier by eight minutes. She pushed her desk chair back and moved to get upright when the sound of high heels sounded –– muffled but there indeed. Her heart immediately began racing upon recognizing that particular gait. She would have anywhere, on any floor, with any type of shoes. She hadn't heard the elevator's ding, but surely she never would have taken the stairs! What was she doing at _Life Today_?

Andy remained seated, her eyes widened in shock and she forgot to breathe as the famous fifty-one-year-old woman came into view, then turned her head… and looked right at her. Andy could see her purse her lips over the distance and suddenly felt the urge to slide under her desk and hide. What on earth was Miranda Priestly doing here? Undoubtedly, no other living person but she herself knew the answer to that. She did and said as only she pleased, after all. She had no doubt it had to do with her absence the day before, though. Then she caught herself wondering why she hadn't had anyone find where she lived but had waited until now to come 'see' Andy. She surmised her schedule hadn't allowed it.

The famous fashionista halted at Andy's office, glaring at her in a way that was both familiar and not at all. Luckily for Andy Sachs, Miranda's appearance seemed to have caught John's attention, and she could see the Editor-in-Chief walk up to her through the entire glass panels of her little office and open his mouth to greet her. She could hear every word, and she focused intently as she heard the Dragon Lady say, "I need to have a word with your writer-in-chief rather… urgently. Is there somewhere where she and I can talk in private?"

"I, uh… I would suggest the kitchens," she could hear her superior say, before he slowly turned his head to her and inclined it very slightly, asking her to join them. Miranda followed him in doing so, and though the look on her face seemed displeased, as usual, she could not read more into it. She could not pinpoint one emotion or amalgam of emotions behind the way in which the older woman's face was set then. Her heart, however, beat much faster than she ever thought it had before, and she forgot to breathe what with everything else altogether. She realized that she had been less anxious for the brunch meeting, despite having had time to stress extensively beforehand and this coming rather unexpected instead.

Maybe the unexpected element only caused her physical reactions to increase in strength? Was nowhere safe from Miranda Priestly anymore? Where it had been only _Runway_ and parties aside from work, now she had physically invaded her sanctuary at _Life Today_ as well… and she suddenly wished she had stayed home for the day, stayed there at the only place where she could still be Miranda-free. Imagine her having come to Andy's apartment!

Shame and redness began to creep up her cheeks at the thought of Miranda Priestly laying eyes upon her crappy and very cheap living arrangement. There were no other words for it compared to where and how Miranda Priestly lived, despite the fact that the rent was enough for Andy with her not so very good pay. Her house was about the size of Andy's entire building, one piece of furniture worthy of Andy's entire studio. _Oh dear_.

So, Andy took a last deep breath and nervously swallowed, standing and willingly walking over to her fate.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!

* * *

**Author's Note : **I'm aware that I'm early. However, I leave on a crash course tomorrow night with my university. :s Enjoy!


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

"Uh… Please, sit down," Andy offered, pointing to the chair at the square table in _Life Today's_ work kitchen. She could see her icy blue eyes trail to the chair and her lips twitch slightly in what she thought to be disgust. Of course, Miranda wouldn't sit down _there_ , and so, she didn't sit either, instead just leant against the counter and slowly crossed her arms over her chest and did her best to hide the fact that she was shaking like a leaf. She forced herself to look at Miranda. "You, err… wanted to talk to me then?" she tried, hoping that it would help them to get this over with soon.

Miranda rose to her full height, eyeing her carefully as she seemed to consider how best to word herself to cause the most damage. "You didn't come to _Runway_ yesterday," she stated, very casually, very un-stingy. It almost made her sound kind and understanding. Andy suspected it was just the calm before the great storm, though. Blue eyes continued to eye her with expectancy, and Andy realized that she wanted a reply; that it hadn't just been her normal rhetorical question. After all, a lot of the conversations one had with Miranda Priestly could be seen as mere 'monologues' by many.

"I, uh… I wasn't feeling well," she said.

"So did what your ever-so-innocent eyes trailed to the night before last disgust you that much then?" Miranda wondered, eyebrow quirking, daring her to give an answer. The look on her face alone said that she would have to tread very carefully and that whatever she said would most likely not be considered a right answer anyway –– it truly was creepy how Miranda seemed to know everything and saw through the lie she had so easily sold to her superior. She knew it would be no use trying to convince her that she had been physically ill. Suddenly, she considered the possibility of Miranda Priestly being a mind reader. She swallowed, biting down on her lower lip as she decided not to answer.

Miranda Priestly laughed a very cold, high laugh and moved a few steps closer, until they were only inches apart, towering over her threateningly on those ridiculously high heels. In fact, she was an inch taller than Miranda, but she was wearing black leather flats and Miranda's heels… well. They covered more than three inches. Suddenly, she felt incredibly embarrassed in her flats, and she doubted she would have been more so had Miranda just burst into her bathroom. She lowered her eyes and swallowed, hoping to appear very interested in those little black shoes.

"Do you really believe I didn't see you _looking_? That I don't know what goes on in your mind, how it fights over finding me attractive while you absolutely hate who I am and believe that I could never love you back anyway? I bet that you wonder if I have a heart after all, and how I am like with my intimate partners. If I can be any different, and if there are sides to me that are indeed loveable."

"With all due respect, Miranda," Andy said, "You do _not_ know me." Her voice was entirely unwavering as she spoke, and she said it through clenched teeth. It wasn't really that Miranda was mistaken or anything, because she had strangely hit the nail on the head; it was more the fact that Miranda always acted as if she owned the place, acted as if she knew everything about, well – everything and _everyone_.

Miranda's thin lips curled into a little smile. "Oh, don't I?" she said, in a rather challenging way. "Can you honestly claim that you don't find me attractive then? I've seen you stare at me many times."

Andy could feel her anger rising, if the way in which her cheeks burned was any indication. "Isn't it your goal to look perfect and attractive and have everyone stare in awe? There are very few who would ever deny that thought!" Andy retaliated angrily, pleased to see the slight shock on Miranda's face even if only for a second.

"Yes, well, a woman in my position…" she began.

She then looked murderous as Andy interrupted her, her eyes blazing and mouth just a thin, angry line. "I am nothing less than you!" she exclaimed. "You're not more than anyone else! You always believe you can permit yourself more and that you can get more done, and that is partially true, but you are no more or less than any other person! You may or may not have a much higher position than most women can achieve these days. You may be the Editor-in-Chief of _Runway_ America and may bloody well be very successful at it, but you need food and fluid like any other human being, need to piss like everyone else as well. You have the same needs –– though your demands are slightly higher and though you pass those off as if they were absolute needs. You are still human above all, just like everyone else."

To say that Miranda Priestly, Editor-in-Chief of _Runway_ America and Andy's former superior, had been very surprised would be an understatement –– and a grave one at that. Her eyes opened wide as she seemed to take in the avalanche of words Andy had spit into her face. Overall, though, it had made the hairs at the back of her neck tingle strangely.

Andy stood panting at the other woman, not having stopped for breath during her tirade, but instead of catching air, she felt like she was losing it once more, upon eyeing Miranda in that very moment; the way in which those blue eyes seemed clearer than Andy had ever even seen them due to the shock of her 'rage'. Her lips were slightly parted, as if she were battling either between keeping her mouth shut… or relaying a snarky, typical remark in return. The very air surrounding them seemed to change, and any other sound with the exception of her breathing suddenly became entirely mute as she eyed the elder woman who stood mere inches from her. Andy remembered the kiss with John, kisses with Nate and any other kisses she had had, but the intensity of how the very air seemed to crackle, seemed greater than it ever had with any other kiss. She felt like she was being barbecued, found herself growing hotter than she had ever been –– her sunburns of her childhood included –– and she was glad she had bitten down on her lip, or a whimper would have left her mouth at the sensation.

She couldn't quite interpret Miranda's look, she found. Her blue eyes were clear… and at the same time stormy. Andy wondered when that had happened. Her pupils were larger than she had seen them, Andy realized, making them shimmer brighter than ever from the low artificial light overhead. She thought she had never seen Miranda Priestly look like _that_ –– not at her or at anyone, but oh what a funny fuzz fell over her brain, her heart! It made her mind swim, lips burn…

She didn't know who moved first or if she or Miranda had moved at all, but she found her eyes fluttering shut at the touch of a warm, sweet wetness upon her mouth. At first, their lips barely touched, but then, she gently moved hers against the elder woman's and Miranda's only seemed to move easily in tandem against her own –– it had taken both of them less than a second to capitulate. She felt lost in the moment as that silky soft mouth slowly moved across hers, as if everything and everyone else, time included, had just… stopped. She could hear the blood rush in her ears now, the sounds of the rest of the world gone mute. No worry, nothing crossed her otherwise bothered mind when Miranda Priestly kissed her –– nothing but their kiss…

Andy's lips moved against hers for a few heart beats longer, and she wished it would never stop for as long as she lived. If she died right now, she would die happy. She didn't know what to do with her hands… they rose into the air and dropped midway before rising again purposelessly –– Hell, she didn't know what to do with _herself_ as warm lips parted under insistent longing from both sides to taste one another better, and more. Her knees slowly began to weaken, and she didn't know if she could stay on her feet much longer. Tongues delved into wet depths, easily meeting each other, curling and uncurling again, tenderly stroking and dancing… coming slowly to a halt when little explosions began going off extensively in her head –– not only from delight but from a rather intense need for air, too. They came to a halt, and Andy surmised that Miranda must have needed air as well. No one ever would have managed longer without –– not even the very best swimmer or diver!

Sweet, soft lips left hers, and she stood panting for just a few heart beats longer, mentally re-experiencing the kiss and suppressing moans that the mere thought of those sensations elicited again. She didn't dwell on the consequences or anything else, until suddenly, she could hear the sound of high heels, already hurrying across tiles. Her eyes shot open, but it was too late. She only just managed to see the door to the kitchen fall shut, and she looked at it in disbelief. No one could possibly leave after a kiss like that –– no one but Miranda Priestly. Miranda Priestly could do basically anything.

The thought of going after her did not even cross her mind, because Miranda would already be gone by now, and she would just make a fool of herself if she did. It would be a _dead_ giveaway of what had just happened. She touched two fingers to her lips and leaned back against the counter heavily. Of all the times Andy had caught herself wondering what kissing Miranda felt like, she never could have imagined this. It tasted like paradise; Miranda Priestly's lips tasted sweet like paradise. _Oh, fuck it._

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29 (Saturday, April 28, 2007) 

Andy Sachs was very grateful that John hadn't asked a lot about the meeting. Of course, the Editor-in-Chief surely must have noticed her obvious blush when she left the kitchen a few minutes after Miranda had left the building. He had still been standing by her glass office, where she had last seen him before Andy had retreated into the kitchen, as if he was awaiting her return, expecting it soon after Miranda's departure. She wondered if he had stood there since she and Miranda had disappeared or if he had returned to his own office in the meantime and left it again, upon having seen the Editor-in-Chief of _Runway_ leave. "Reprimand?" had been the only thing he had asked her then, to which she had dumbly replied with only a nod before going into her office to get her things and telling him she was going to get something for lunch and leaving without as much as a word, not having given the man the chance to say or ask anything more. By the time she eventually returned, John had left –– undoubtedly to a meeting.

Andy supposed he had interpreted the visible blush still on her otherwise pale face as from anger or maybe embarrassment, and she was glad he would never have guessed the real reason even with lots of imagination. Of course, these two emotions had been involved, too… but first and foremost, the cause had been that all too brief but delicious kiss. Her eyes fluttered shut again as she thought of it, and she could still recall what it had felt like, but the more time passed since it had ended, the more she longed to do it again, to be reminded that she wasn't recalling it too hazily, or fuck forbid had forgotten something essential about it unconsciously. She would just have to test it again… would have to feel it once more; _taste_ it all once more –– just to make sure, no? She absolutely, necessarily… She _needed_ to feel Miranda Priestly again. She longed to feel her hands as well, everywhere on her skin… touching, feeling, stroking, teasing, tickling, rubbing… fucking.

The thought, the realization that she really wanted a repeat of that very same sensation… of kissing Miranda Priestly and being kissed back by her was something quite… eye-opening: it had only been a few days prior when she had caught herself possibly feeling more for the woman, when she had struggled over being unsure whether her feelings were actual romantic ones… ones of admiration or something else entirely different. Altogether, the after effect of their kiss was cause for Andy's heart and thoughts to begin running even wilder than ever, because it smashed all those times she had told herself she could only ever enjoy being with a man. At the same time that it answered a lot of questions, it still left a lot unopened and even caused some more to rise. It had answered what it felt like kissing her. It had answered whether she could love Miranda Priestly, the Dragon Lady… the Ice Queen. If the answer was yes then –– after that splendid kiss, definitely yes. You could not enjoy kissing so much with someone you weren't or couldn't be madly in love with in any way… There was no doubt anymore about it.

She thought that she could compare it all to a game of "Who Am I?" from her childhood years. Every question answered got you closer to the truth, to the resolve of it all, but some answers could cause so much confusion that you weren't sure you were going in the 'right direction' anymore, and that sometimes you just had to sit there and ponder, be confused. Sometimes, you just had to take your next shot not knowing if it would help you further or not. Sometimes, there didn't really appear to be any right questions to ask, let alone right answers. Sometimes, whatever you chose could go either right or entirely not. Sometimes whatever you chose had an obvious disadvantage.

Andy Sachs felt exactly in that same position. She was getting closer to the truth and to the answer, but at this point, she was just so damn confused, not even knowing which way to go, that she knew that she would just have to take that unsure next shot and see from there –– and she wanted that next shot badly. She wanted to answer some more 'questions', _feelings…_ wanted to know how soft Miranda's silky skin felt underneath her fingertips, how she reacted to kisses to her neck and the rest of her body, how a moan from her lips would sound like or a whimper… and fuck forbid, she wanted to know just how her name sounded falling from those thin lips.

Oh, yes, her thoughts were still churning, but she felt like somehow maybe they were not running quite as wildly anymore, but slower, calmer in a way. They weren't racing like mad and colliding with each other in her head now –– or less, at least.

Suddenly, the melody of an old children's song came to her mind, without any real trigger at all. _Miranda and Andy sitting in the kitchen. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Andy with a baby carriage!_

She shook her head with a dumb smile on her lips. She wasn't sure if she really loved the elder woman yet, but every fiber of her being said 'no'. Oh, Andy was attracted to her very much and possibly beginning to definitely fall for her… but this wasn't love yet, if at all. This was not love. You couldn't really 'love' a person whom you had only seen the bad side of, like Andy had from Miranda Priestly, despite the kiss being _really_ good. Well, really good was a little mild. She didn't have any other words. Who would have after… _that_? Seriously? Suddenly, she knew how the Dragon Lady had seduced three men to a marriage… A kiss would have been enough, dear heavens.

Gay marriage wasn't allowed in New York even. As far as that she was concerned, it wasn't allowed anywhere yet in America, save for a few minor states. Of course, Andy had heard that gay marriage was allowed in some countries in Europe, but there were many differences between the States and Europe after all. The size of just one country in Europe as opposed to her own gave an idea already… Then again, would Miranda ever want to marry again, after her handful of divorces? They were far from such a notion in any case.

Children… Well, Miranda already had twin daughters, and she was nearly twice Andy's age. Therefore, she doubted whether the Dragon Lady would want to have any more children, let alone with _her_. They had just kissed, nothing more! They hadn't even been more intimate than that. Miranda hadn't even let on anything about how she felt about Andy. Maybe she had acted from loneliness?

Though her thoughts were less forcefully running about her head now, she had not been able to concentrate anymore when she returned from downtown, and thus, she had then decided to go home and had done so. She had too often caught herself rereading a line over and over again without even remembering what it contained.

It would be a very long weekend if she wanted to get all those articles of Erica and Robert's read through, and then she would somehow have to finish her sequel piece about Miranda Priestly as well. The quicker it was finished, the quicker she could get the whole business over with. Oddly enough, though, she no longer wanted to forget about Miranda like she had before that kiss. To her shocking revelation, Andy wanted more… more of Miranda Priestly. She wanted it all and now.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30 (Sunday, April 29, 2007) 

Andy Sachs, writer-in-chief at _Life Today_ , ex-second assistant of Miranda Fucking Priestly at _Runway_ America, was well enough aware that she needed to be at work the next morning ––and best not to be seen too hung-over. She would not be able to concentrate much in that case. She had never been _really_ wasted before, but there had certainly been times when she had been on the edge and had woken the day after with a mighty headache, which made even the softest of sounds too loud and weakest lights still too bright. Fortunately, those occasions had always been at the weekend and never on school days or working days. She wasn't going to get into that now either. She was an intelligent young woman, wasn't she?

However, she felt that going for a beer (or a white wine) after work was justified. After all, she had finished all those files that had been sitting in her mail box, despite the crazy amount of them. One of Robert's had been exceptionally tough work, considering she had found quite a few instances where she had frowned to herself and thought the sentences didn't really 'flow' as they said sometimes. She had no doubt that what he had written had made perfect sense to him when he had been writing it and quite possibly when he had been rewriting it, too, but it didn't make much sense to her and thus wouldn't to the regular reader either. She had had to rewrite a fair few passages. It wasn't necessarily that Robert wasn't talented, but this article had been hers to write first, and so she suspected that had a lot to do with it. Maybe that was why she had unconsciously been a little tougher as well –– for Robert's writing hadn't always read the same as how she had imagined the article to go. She had had some vague ideas in her head when the Editor-in-Chief had first come to her with the subject and had some inspiration.

So when she looked at the clock hanging in the kitchen as she filled a glass with soda, only having shut her laptop down after sending the proof read files through a few minutes prior, she considered the possibility of having a beer in town. After all, it was 'only' ten PM, and it really had been ages since she hadn't just sat at home for the rest of the night. Why usually, she would never go into town for a beer _alone_ , but, this time, she didn't really seem to mind. She downed her glass, moved to her wardrobe to find slightly more suitable attire and then disappeared into the bathroom for a well-needed shower. A change of clothes had been in order, considering she had sat every second of the weekend inside her apartment, dressed in the most comfortable and baggy clothes she had, namely an weird pair of old boxer shorts which she had had for years and were still many sizes too large –– in fact, if it hadn't been for the cords to tie around her middle, they would constantly fall off –– and a tank top that had splashes of paint on it. It had been her ideal DIY clothing when Nate and she had painted the living room and bedroom of the apartment. The stains had never quite left the fabric, but somehow she hadn't gotten around to throwing it away despite all that.

A shower had been needed, too. Especially as her hair had looked like a mess, standing in every direction. She had thought she was giving off a not so odorous smell to boot. Andy could never really tell whether it was a figment of her imagination or really true, but she always took the certain for the uncertain. Because then she felt fresher as well, and her doubts and worries were all solved. This time, it was highly likely that it had not just been a figment of her imagination, considering she had not showered at all the day prior. Then again, who cared? No one else had to lay eyes on her but she herself, so whatever.

The beer and cocktails flowed fast, though, when she finally got from the confines of her apartment, freshly showered. Faster than they usually did, for one reason or another. Although Andy had always stopped for her own safety after a certain amount, this time –– not so very long after she had entered even –– she had surpassed those fair few beers and was dancing on a table to typical rave songs like she had when she was younger. The difference was that she had never been that hammered before in her entire life, and she was a bit weak on her legs as a consequence. She just didn't care about the possibility of falling off the table, considering she wasn't the only one there who had thought it might be fun. In fact, it didn't even cross her mind that she _could_ fall off of the table in her quite pissed state.

She didn't notice the gazes of the men at the bar that were directed upon her either. Most of the time, Andy's eyes were closed as she just felt the music and moved to its beat, imagining herself dancing in Dirty Dancing. She would have fitted right in, without any doubt at all. Then again, alcohol could do strange stuff to a human being; it was known to push away all negative feelings for a while and cause feelings of euphoria and ecstasy instead, which most people experienced as happy exhilaration, as being absolutely worry-less in every single way. Alcohol was known to make people lose their inhibitions and make them lust for sex more, maybe unconsciously behave in a more sexual way as well. Maybe those two were related to each other somehow as well. They were most likely even, but she couldn't rightly say. In fact, there was very little she thought about at that moment at all –– not even Miranda Priestly swam through her mind at that very moment, dancing upon the table in that way.

She didn't notice the man approach her, until he was at the table on which she stood. A touch upon her ankle made her aware of him standing there and addressing her, and she opened her eyes and looked down with a little smile. He was not at all ugly –– in fact he was rather… handsome. Her smile widened as he extended his hand to help her down from the table, seemingly inviting her for a dance with him. She giggled as she let him help her, falling into his arms as the table was much higher than she had realized.

Of course, alcohol was known to help one to miscalculate a great many things –– distance just being one of them. Their own levels of intoxication yet another.

He caught her expertly, and she could feel the firm planes of his chest against her before pushing away. His eyes were a smoldering brown and his teeth were clean and white as he smiled at her, his hands coming down to her hips. He could dance with her all he wanted; it was obvious enough what he was really trying to achieve there. She still recognized those tricks from so many years ago, and seemingly, they hadn't changed over the years either. She had, though… Andréa Sachs had changed over the years, and lots. She shimmied away from him, holding up her hand and slowly wagging her left forefinger. "Nuh-huh," she said, still having the presence of mind to push him off. She laughed at his look of misunderstanding. He seemed to have thought her slightly more… willing, she guessed. She laughed at the look upon his face, and then she just said, "I'm sorry to say it, but… I'm gay!"

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31 (Monday, April 30, 2007)

Andréa Sachs woke upon the couch the next morning.

As she opened her eyes, she immediately realized _something_ wasn't quite right. However, it took her a couple of minutes to get herself together and learn this wasn't her bed but couch, and to recall why she was actually there again. She had gone to have a beer the night before. She remembered having had some cocktails as well, though. She groaned, her head pounding as she pushed herself upright into a sitting position. _Damn_. She reached for her cell phone on the table by the couch, flipping it open to check the time and noticing it really was time to abandon her sleep, drag herself to the bathroom, dress and get to _Life Today_. She would just grab an onion bagel on the way. "STOP!" she whined at the persistent little clock radio, of which the sound carried to where she had somehow fallen asleep. How she had gotten there remained rather fuzzy… Then she suddenly remembered a guy… She hadn't –– had she?

She snapped her cell phone shut and slowly looked down upon herself to check the order of her attires. She seemed to be fully dressed, at least –– unless… She swallowed, her free hand pushing down the edge of her jeans to see and feel the rim of her underwear in the dim light. _Phew_. She was still wearing panties! Shakily lifting her hand to her head, she begged, "Stop…" once more, but the clock radio wouldn't listen. She would just have to make herself get to her feet and go turn it off, even if the thought of standing made her feel nauseous already.

She would never combine cocktails and beer again. She would never have alcohol ever again! She would never set foot in a bar ever again!

She pushed herself upright, unable to listen any longer to that insanely loud noise. She navigated through the pieces of furniture in her studio. She forced herself not to sink down on the floor and weep. Her head hurt so bad… She needed to find some painkillers, too. She needed their analgesic help, for at this point, the mere thought of having to keep herself upright and go to her work was an impossible one. She didn't believe she would really make it through a day without painkillers, but first… that noise! That noise had to stop. That noise really had to stop.

The relief that ran through her as she managed to turn the radio off was staggering. _Oh finally._ She sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling a surge of nausea come over her. She immediately lifted her hand over her shut mouth –– a perfectly natural reaction for someone about to throw up. She would not vomit now. She would not. She knew that once she did, she wouldn't stop for the foreseeable future. Andy had never vomited from being hung over yet, but still, she was sure she would not manage to hold it after vomiting first.

At least she hadn't come home with that guy. Massaging her temple with her thumb, she tried to recall last night with great difficulty. Why hadn't she invited him back to her place? She vaguely recalled some guy her age or younger, who wasn't exactly un-handsome… and Andy telling him that she was gay. _Oh gosh, did I say that?_

She sighed. Well, yeah. No matter how you twisted and turned it, Andy Sachs liked Miranda. No matter if it made any sense or not, she _liked_ Miranda Priestly after a history of only liking men. Andy Sachs was definitely not straight. What she felt for that woman was as intense if not any more so than what she had felt for Nate and her interests before him. Bisexuality was an option maybe. However, weren't you technically supposed to have liked more women to be 'bisexual' than just the one? It had made her feel confused enough, finding she _fancied_ Miranda Priestly; had made Andy wonder whether she was maybe going insane. It had made her feel slightly panicked –– more than she would care admit. All that she had ever thought of herself seemed suddenly untrue. Now, however, she knew that not to be the case. Ever since that kiss, Andy was positively sure that it wasn't platonic, wasn't her imagination. Ever since that kiss, Andy Sachs certainly knew that she wasn't entirely heterosexual; knew that she was at least gay for Miranda Priestly.

_Great_. She still needed to finish so many articles… She would have to work hard today and tomorrow to get them all done in time. John wouldn't be happy to know she was behind schedule. He was a very relaxed person normally, but never before had he feared that someone wouldn't make their set deadline for the next issue. Andy was the sort of writer who always set herself earlier deadlines. After all, the business in which she worked was based often upon 'inspiration' and had the tendency to sometimes be more challenging than thought initially. That way, if one article or more happened to be challenging, she still had time to rework it all if necessary. It had often appeared a valid way of working, for it wouldn't be the first time that had been necessary –– those instances happened much less often now, though. Especially in the beginning, it had often been that way. Andy, Erica and Robert had learned to communicate better and find their way in the company, find who was more suitable to do this or that.

If she wanted to ensure that her new article was to be included in the next issue, she would have to have it finished and sent through before Thursday. John would not be happy to know that it wouldn't make it, she knew, for the Editor-in-Chief was already much too excited about it not to be. She would be very disappointed in herself, too, not to have made it in time, especially after all the crap she had had to go through for that damn article already.

She wondered whether the kiss with Miranda had been worth all that, and she laughed aloud, nodding to herself dumbly. Oh, yes… Every piece of bad luck that had ever even crossed her path had disappeared that moment when Miranda's lips had touched hers. She would have gone through Hell if necessary. She would definitely go through it again just to feel those lips once more.

She groaned. She had to get going soon, or she wouldn't get to work in time. Then she would be even further behind, and consequently even more stressed, and then the quality of her articles would suffer, and John would be disappointed in her and Andy _definitely_ would be in herself, and then maybe the whole company would suffer. However, maybe if Andy didn't do well, she would see the Dragon Lady again for another little not-so-brunchy brunch. The thought was enticing. _No, Andy, you won't fuck up on purpose just to see the woman you can't have anyway._

Well, off to the shower then. She smelled of beer. She smelled of uncleanliness.

She exhaled in her hand to check her breath and wrinkled her nose at the smell. A rinse with mouthwash and a rough scrub with her toothbrush wouldn't be _too_ much to ask either. Oh dear, she better hurry if she wanted to look acceptable for work. _Acceptable…_ She groaned. Maybe Miranda would come by today, too. _No, Andy, just get a grip._

She pushed herself upright, fighting against the nausea. Before she did anything else, she needed to find some Pepto-Bismol and painkillers. Otherwise, she just wouldn't make it through today. _Come on, Andy, you can do it!_ Andy encouraged herself. Well, she had chosen for 'fun' yesterday, so she had to deal with its consequences today.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32 (Thursday, May 3, 2007)

Andy waited for John that morning with a smile despite the exhaustion she felt. Anyone who had worked like Andy had these last couple of days was sure to be on the verge of keeling over, too. She had barely had any sleep, doing little else but read and write while awake. While both were some of her favorite activities, it could actually get too much on occasions, too. Andy would be glad just to have normal hours again, before she began to dislike what she loved.

Atop of all that, Andy Sachs didn't really feel like having recovered from her hangover either –– not entirely. She at least knew she would never have any type of alcohol again on Sunday nights, or any other before a regular work day for that matter. She would certainly never even combine beer and cocktails again on any night at all; or morning, or day.

John Englund, Editor-in-Chief of _Life Today_ , smiled, too, upon seeing hers and immediately concluded, having learned to read her, "You have managed to send the article through after all?" he asked, opening the door to her glass office and peeking in before retreating into the office that belonged to him.

Andy nodded. "I sent it last night. It'll make the new issue still." That was technically a lie, though. She had only sent the file through after two-thirty AM… She had only barely managed to keep her tired eyes open long enough to attach the file and send the damn thing through. At least she had already fallen asleep upon hitting her pillow and had not woken even once.

"That's great news! This time, I don't envy the ones who have to assemble all, but I'm quite sure they'll be able to do it. After all, most of the time they get everything ready ahead, so it isn't as if they need to work with tight schedules every single time –– it is only this once."

"True," she agreed.

"I have gotten slightly behind, too," John admitted. "I've just been so occupied. Therefore, most of the articles you've written will get sent through to the assemblers without me having time to read them. Then again, I believe in your skills, and I know you are capable enough, so… Too bad that the new article about Miranda Priestly couldn't already be included in tomorrow's issue, but that was never the purpose nor a possibility."

"No, I would never have been able to do that," Andy agreed. She had worked hard enough to get it done now. She couldn't possibly have managed it earlier –– not even if she had no sleep at all. She was a ghost of herself already, who would be very glad to catch a bit more rest over the weekend. Suddenly, she realized that she really had lived from one weekend to the other. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, nonsense," John said and brushed it off with his hand nonchalantly. "You've worked hard enough for it. You managed to get Erica's last article done yesterday, too?"

Andy nodded, smile returning. "I did. I sent it in the same mail."

"What were your thoughts?"

"Well, she definitely surprised me with it," she said. "I never thought the subject could make for a really good article, but Erica did it. I thought it all was very engaging and nicely written in its entirety, too. The paragraphs are definitely better constructed." True, Erica's paragraphs hadn't always flowed effortlessly from one to the next at the beginning, given she was entirely new to being with a magazine, and wasn't so very sure of herself –– which did show somehow in all she ever wrote. She was way more talented than she gave herself credit for, Andy and John had agreed from day one, though. When she was tired, she, ironically enough, wrote better, undoubtedly because then she didn't obsess as much over it all.

John smiled. "I'm glad. I should go and congratulate her then!"

Andy smiled, too, watching as he turned and let her office door fall shut, then skipped to his office. She shook her head; the man really was a joy to work for, but sometimes, she wondered what he took to always be so positive, so energetic –– well, not always but still most of the time. She herself suppressed a yawn with her hand. _I really need to get some sleep. I would just fall asleep right here, if I laid my head down…_

Andy quietly lifted her hand to her neck and felt the soreness of her muscles. What she wouldn't give for a massage, right now. Nate had done that a couple of times. He would push her down on the bed and undress her, warm some oil between his hands and rub it into her sore muscles, rolling his thumbs over them tenderly, squeezing gently with his other fingers. Most of these massages had been later followed by mind-blowing sex, orgasms included. That's why she remembered them so well. She had never really done it to him, though –– especially not to the end of their relationship. Then again, she had barely had any time for herself let alone for Nate at that point. She would have liked to part in another way for sure –– if so, maybe they never would have parted at all.

_Would…?_ No, Miranda Priestly would just be the type to accept massages, not… give them. She had her massages given to her by qualified therapists, too –– chances were that she wouldn't even let a lover touch her like that. Andy suddenly became aware of the fact that her ten fingers tingled now. Oh, yes, what she wouldn't give to be allowed to let them trail across her skin, Miranda's skin. _Fuck, yeah._

Her eyes fluttered shut as she dreamed away. Miranda would be lying upon the bed, entirely naked. Even with the best of her fantasy, she couldn't imagine it. She would undoubtedly be perfect, her skin as milky white and flawless everywhere as the few inches she showed hinted at on occasion. Andy would be on her knees beside her, trailing a thin feather across her soft smooth skin. Miranda would moan, would urge her to lie down on the bed beside her. They would kiss again, of course. They would repeat that earth-shattering little moment, until she couldn't feel her lips anymore… until Miranda's thin lips were swollen.

Miranda would most definitely straddle her at that point and take upper hand. Miranda Priestly would _need_ upper hand, of course. She would let her fingers slide through those silky grayish locks while kissing, would let Miranda ravish her so thoroughly… would let her fuck her. Andy would beg her to do so. Andy would beg for those thin fingers to move across her, _inside_ her. How she wished to feel those soft lips upon her: her skin, her bosom, her thighs, her pussy. How Andy wished she could return all that, could taste Miranda Priestly…

Andy gasped, her eyes shooting open. She blinked a couple of times to focus, finding she was at _Life Today_ , sitting in her office. _Oh no._ The panels of her office could be seen through so easily… Anyone might have caught her there, fantasizing about Miranda Priestly. Her cheeks immediately began to burn at that very realization. She just hoped that she hadn't moaned or talked or… She would be so damn embarrassed. How long had she dreamed then? She couldn't really say. What time was it?

She looked down at her watch and sighed; it couldn't have been for long. That was something at least. _Come on, Andy. It'll quiet down from now, and when you get home tonight, you can go to bed right away if you like it._ Oh, that's what she would do… Sleep. _Come on, Andy… just a few more hours, and then you can sleep._

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!

* * *

**Author's Note : **Unfortunately, given most negative response comes in anonymously... I do know that most readers are quite annoyed with this pace that I have adapted to from day one - that most of you would have loved to see them together already, intimate already. I'm sorry to say that I don't see it that way. I'm sorry to say that I've no intention at all to go and rewrite the rest of the story (which I've already finished). There's time enough for that eventually, no? While I know that you might look for stories online just in order to escape real life, I really wanted this fanfic to be as close to that as possible. I really wanted to adress the thoughts running through your mind when you're falling madly for someone, the doubts. Your life might be very unlike mine - in fact, I don't even consider the opposite. However, my personal experience is that this great phenomenon of _Love_ takes a little while to develop at best. I've done this only purposefully. I have had to restrain myself not to let them 'slip' two chapters in already, whether you believe me or not. In fact, most of my other fanfic is that way. Plotwise, I'll share that there'll be intimacy in the end - even more than once. However, I ask for your patience regarding that matter. I, too, wish to remind you of the energy and time that goes into _How Alike We Are_ , both from my side and that of my beta reader... this despite both incredibly busy schedules and challenges in real life.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33 (Sunday, May 6, 2007)

*Aunty Andy, I've learned new words at school!*

"Oh, you have?" Andy questioned, pseudo surprised. She smiled wide as always when she heard Aiden's voice on the telephone from Ohio. She loved that little fella so much, even if only for always being able to get her to smile no matter what. He was a little tonic, a light in the darkness sometimes. Andy knew he was for both his mom and dad, too.

*Yeah!* he squealed. He began to talk happily, Andy listening in New York with a little smile upon her tired face nevertheless. While she continued listening, she clicked to check her mail as he was going on and on about his new words –– nothing new. Somehow, she didn't mind it. Andy loved to hear him that excited, even if that was nearly always. She just let him get on with, not mentioning that she had gone to get the Hummer toy car just the Friday prior and sent it to Ohio by air mail. She would definitely hear about it once the relatively huge package had gotten to its destination.

"I'm so proud of you!" Andy excitedly exclaimed when he told her of how well he had done on his math test last week, too. Aiden was a clever boy! She could hear him squeal with joy at his end and couldn't help laughing, too. She so missed being with him, taking him to the park and tossing footballs to each other, even when Andy wore heels. She missed always teasing him, tickling him. She suddenly pined for home more than ever since having arrived in New York. Then again, she had gone there with Nate, and had Lily and Doug. None of those people were in her life any longer, though. She would have felt lonely, if it hadn't been for her nephew going on about how his dad had bought him a game for his Nintendo to reward him for doing so well at school. Aiden's thoughts seemed to have run off in the same direction…

*When are you coming back! I miss you!* he exclaimed. *I've gotten bigger! Maybe I'm nearly as tall as you now!*

Andy laughed loud. "Maybe!" she said. "Maybe I won't recognize you any longer! We'll just have to test it, I'm afraid."

*When? Will you come back for summer at least?*

"Ah…" Andy began. She sighed. Robert, Erica and she had been working on a couple of articles already to publish later, so that when the time came, all of the writers could have two weeks off on the condition that they didn't all at the same time, of course. They would just have to come to some sort of compromise first. "I will, but I can't really say when yet. I'm sorry, Spiderman."

She bit down on her lip; she didn't have to be there to know he was pouting. 'Spiderman'had only been her nickname for Aiden for a little while, since he had suggested, months prior, she go with him to the film that had been released last week. Neither his mother or father had been very interested, so, of course, he had gone to ask Aunty Andy, who, if not for the lead actor, would do it for little Aiden. Ever since, she had referred to Aiden as 'Spiderman'. She had promised him to go see it in theatre when possible…

*We'll never get to see it, will we?* Andy could hear how disappointed Aiden was as he replied, and it really broke Andy's heart. She felt so guilty for not being there more often –– for being the godmother she had never wanted to be. *Summer's still too far away! What if… you won't even recognize me when you come?*

"I'll recognize you," Andy assured. There was no way that she wouldn't recognize him. She could practically hear him shrug his shoulders at his end.

*I hope so. Mommy just called for dinner… I better go. We're having hotdogs.*

"Oh, right. You eat a second one just for me, okay? Erm, say hi to mommy and daddy for me, too?" Andy said.

*'Kay! I will! Bye! Love you!*

"I love you, too, little fella," Andy just managed to say, before the connection broke. She sighed, laying down her cell phone on the couch beside her. Aiden did have a point there: summer holidays were too long away still. They seemed unbelievably far away at that moment –– _too_ far for just three months. It seemed much longer; time seemed to go too slow. New York, despite the city being huge, despite the number of men, women and children living in it, had come to feel lonely; always lonelier than home, where the cozy and familiar air was always hanging; where her family was, her 'home'. Somehow, it didn't feel like 'home' in New York.

Her folks and the rest of her family would be very glad to see her again as well. After all, it had been about Christmas since last she had seen them.

Andy leaned against the back of the old couch. She wondered whether the Dragon Lady had family she visited at Christmas or other times of the year. She wondered whether she just didn't have [any?] family left anymore, was estranged from them, or still had some that she just never talked about. She doubted that last option, though. As a second assistant, she had to take care of flights, of hotels… and not once in almost a year had there been mention of a family or anything that could hint to one in any way, despite the fact that Miranda desperately tried to shield her personal life.

Andy wondered what Miranda Priestly's family had been like when she was younger. She wondered if her mother and father had always been loving, been supportive; if she had brothers or sisters; would she have been the oldest? The youngest?

Again, Andy concluded that she knew so very little about Miranda Priestly as the woman behind _Runway_ America. Even then, she had never learned to 'anticipate'. Even then, Miranda always remained very unpredictable in her Editor-in-Chief role, on the verge of insane… well, not quite on the verge anymore. Her requests sometimes were insane, often impossible. She would never forget Miranda's request regarding the unpublished Harry Potter manuscript.

She laughed at her own foolishness. That was over now. Their kiss had been rather great indeed, earth-shattering and mind-blowing even, and she would give all that she had to feel it again if only for _one_ little second, but she knew that it wouldn't happen. Days had gone by without having heard from her, and she supposed that now the new article was sent in and ready to be published in the next issue, she wouldn't have anything more to do with her in any way. Of course, that wasn't necessarily bad, for she never would be able to look at Miranda again and not want to kiss those soft lips when being with her. _Oh, Andy._

Knowing you were in love with a person you knew you could never have was just a royal pain in the ass in all ways possible, but this was something she had gone through already, and she knew that she could deal with it. Maybe it didn't have to be that different? It definitely felt the same way as it had with a male. Who hadn't really wanted the captain of the soccer team in high school at some point?

Adam, the teenage heart-throb, had been very different from Miranda, though. She couldn't rightly say whether the fact that he had always had a girl and as far as Andy knew, Miranda was single, made it either tougher or easier for her. Then again, Miranda Priestly never made anything much easier –– on anyone. Everyone knew that fact to be true.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34 (Tuesday, May 8, 2007)

Andrea Sachs slowly shifted her weight while she waited for the elevator. She had pushed the button so many times with no result… She quietly resolved that if it didn't arrive within the next minute, then she would just take the stairs already. She cast her gaze down to her feet and smiled. She must have had those shoes for so many years and had worn them so often, too. She had even had to get them repaired twice: once to fix the right zipper, the second time begging Mr. Shoe Maker to _please_ fix her beloved black leather boots even though he had eyed them with a frown, stating that they must be old already. Eventually, the shoe maker had agreed and replaced the heels and soles. They were by far the most comfortable pair of shoes with heels she owned, though she knew that they were not 'fashionable' in any regard at all –– she was sure that Miranda Priestly would more than quirk her brow over these particular boots.

In fact, she had once before. Miranda hadn't been in at the office all day. When the staff knew this would be the case ahead, most took advantage of it to look slightly less impeccable than when the Dragon Lady was there. Of course, there were those few Barbie girls who always appeared _perfect_ , whether Miranda was there or not, who most likely shared her thoughts about 'fashion'. A great number of them, though, dared to wear things Miranda would never have approved of no matter what. Some even wore flats, which was, even when made by the most famous shoe label in the whole world, not-done at _Runway_ America. Andy had learned it the first day that Miranda had been absent from work. Emily had made some comment about how a certain Lindsay from Art had overdone it by coming in with flip-flops. Andy had frowned, to which the first assistant had sighed in her normal annoyance and said that when Miranda wasn't there and wouldn't be for the whole day, it was common for those who worked at _Runway_ to wear more comfortable choices of attires and shoes, though it really was advisable to have some backups just in case. Apparently, she regularly caught them unawares. If she thought about all that now, she laughed at her own naivety, of how absolutely surprised she had been then to hear that, not understanding why when she had said she wouldn't come in for the day, she would suddenly appear anyway.

She had worn her favorite boots to work that day, though she had –– as advised –– had a backup pair of much higher heels under the desk just in case. Miranda hadn't appeared at work anyway. Very self-assuredly, Andy had made her way to Miranda's townhouse to deliver the Book, had intended to leave it on the table with the flowers, just when Miranda's voice had rung from the living room, telling her to come give her the Book in person since she was already home and wouldn't be going to bed anytime soon. The look of disgust upon the Ice Queen's face as her eyes trailed down had been absolutely priceless.

In a way she was glad she no longer had to watch what she wore at all times, but Andy's life had changed considerably since then. When she worked at _Runway_ , she hadn't wanted or desired to please the other woman in any other way than professionally… Andy hadn't been in love with Miranda Priestly like this. Now, she was, and as with every person she had liked in that way, she secretly wanted to look at herself in a way Miranda would have approved of for sure.

_Enough._

She would have made it to the fourth level three times already by now! She groaned aloud with annoyance and turned, stalking to the staircase and stomping her way up to the level of _Life Today_. It wasn't uncommon for people of the first and second floor to do that, she knew. She met a few of those while on her way with her small bag of Chinese fastfood. It had been very busy in the restaurant –– too busy. There hadn't been room for her to eat at Wong Fu, so she had chosen to just return to the company to eat lunch in their little kitchen. Most people were either eating in town or in the building's cafeteria. Erica and Robert had gone to get pizza in town, for instance. Andy had been asked whether she wanted to join them there, but she hadn't exactly felt like having pizza.

Andy sighed upon reaching the floor of _Life Today_ , happy to have finally gotten there. She wasn't really breathless, after all she was young and healthy, but for a person who never took the stairs, only elevators… Well. When she passed by the elevator to go into the little kitchen, the metal doors opened as if they had sensed her close presence. She stood and turned to them incredulously, then shook her head. _Technology_.

The sound of her telephone reached her ears then. Who would be calling her now? She had no idea as she hurried to her office, hoping to reach it before it switched to voice mail or the caller had had enough. Dropping the brown paper bag with Chinese on her desk, Andy lifted the horn of the phone. "Hello, Andy speaking."

*Auntie Andy! I just got my parcel today!*

"Oh, you did?" Andy asked, a smile upon her lips at the excitement of her young godson. She could nearly feel it herself. "Do you like it?"

*I love it! You can do so much with it! You can flip the car over so high, and it goes really fast. It goes nearly as fast as Scooby.*

She laughed gently at Aiden's comparison. She should have guessed that one of the first things he might do was try to race the toy car against the young Jack Russell. Jack Russells were known for their hyperactive behavior –– she wasn't surprised he had still been faster. Poor Scooby. Andy was actually very surprised that the parcel had arrived already. They had said that it could take anywhere between two to nine days to send by airmail. Therefore, she had thought it would be at least a week until it got there.

"I'm glad you liked it," Andy said. "Oh, shouldn't you be at school now? Today's Tuesday, and I don't believe that it is the holidays quite yet?"

*I'm off today!*

"Oh, on just a regular Tuesday?" Andy wondered, sitting herself down on the desk chair and leaning back into it, her lunch long forgotten. She did indeed find it strange that he was home at this hour. Although he came home for warm lunch every day, he should have been back at school already by now.

*Yes! It's an educ––* he stuttered.

"Educational seminar?" Andy tried.

*Yeah!*

"Ah." Suddenly, it all fell into place. She suddenly remembered having had those when she had still been studying. It seemed a lifetime ago now, when she had sat on the benches, listening to the teacher and hastily making notes. She remembered one professor in particular who talked so fast that her hand had cramped many times trying to write everything down… That had been necessary, because he didn't have any typed notes or use slides or a textbook of any type. She had always been very glad when those classes were over and could copy her notes on her laptop. If she hadn't done so right then… Andy wouldn't ever have been able to read them anymore later. Her laptop's battery had not been a good one, so she had never been able to use it in class. Consequently, the exams had been very difficult. It had been the one subject she had had to retake four times.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35 (Friday, May 11, 2007) 

Andy thought it couldn't be the holidays soon enough now. Erica, Robert, John and she had had this conversation the day before about holidays. Andy had told John that she really wanted to order plane tickets, especially after Aiden's phone call, and Erica had agreed she wanted to know something soon as well. She and her fiancé were going to travel to Scandinavia, and like Andy, they wanted to book as soon as possible, to ensure that they had seats and all –– and a better price. A week could make a big difference when it came to flight prices… Erica's lover would need to take time off and ask for it in advance as well.

Eventually, Andy's holidays had been set for the last two weeks of July. She had ordered her tickets the night before and called home right away to inform her folks. He had mentioned it during their last conversation, and he had been very glad to hear they had finally settled on a date and that he knew when he was going to see his beloved 'little girl' again. Both of her folks still saw Andy that way –– which was both cute and annoying all at the same time.

Andy set the coffee jar down on the counter where it usually stood and raised her cup to her lips, sipping from the sweetened black liquid, savoring the taste on her tongue for a moment before swallowing. She had checked online, and it seemed likely Spiderman would still be in theaters by the end of July. Most movies stayed there for about seven to eight weeks, and there had been so many views already and it did seem very popular –– it was therefore likely it would remain in the cinemas a little while longer. Andy furiously hoped that she would manage to fulfill her promise to her godson. She could maybe look on the net for some merchandise from the movie as a sort of apology for the belatedness, too. She had no lover, whom she needed to consider when it came to birthdays or anything, so she could save on that atop of the fact that her electricity bill had gone down a bit since Nate had gone, too. Her apartment and other expenses had remained the same in price, and her monthly pay at _Life Today_ was significantly higher than at _Runway_. Why not use some on little Aiden? He knew how to appreciate any gift at all, and to be able to make him smile was a really great gift for Andy in return. Her mind trailed to children again. Would her own children be able to make her smile that way, too?

Then her thoughts trailed to Miranda Priestly's children. She had of course met them on occasion. There were some sets of twins who had distinct little markings by which you could tell them both apart. For instance, at Andy's high school, there had been twin boys a year below her. They were absolutely identical, with the exception of a birth mark which one had on his left cheek and the other didn't at all. No such luck with Caroline and Cassidy, though. There were no physical marks by which you could identify the one or the other. In the end, Andy had managed to tell them apart –– after about six months or so –– only by their expressions. It so happened that Caroline always seemed that bit more sour than her twin sister. Not that either of them was exceptionally kind, having both inherited their mother's seemingly ungrateful behavior at all times. They had inherited her great air of superiority as well.

Getting them to like her would just be a joke, even if something was to happen between her and their mother. Even in an ideal world, Miranda Priestly's twin daughters would be the worst challenge she would have, worse maybe than Miranda even. Andy was sure that if she ever should happen to have Miranda like her while her beloved daughters didn't, she would rather listen to them than what she felt for herself. Miranda knew her own mind and was not the sort of parent who condoned talking back. However, Andy had only rarely heard the twins do so. Then again, why would they even –– they had everything another child their age could only dream of!

She looked about the room as she leaned against the shiny kitchen counter and smiled into her red cup; it was this same room in which Miranda and she had kissed for the first and last time undoubtedly. It had taken her a little while until she had been able to go in there without blushing or reacting in another way.

She lowered her cup again and smiled in it dumbly for a moment before the look upon her face changed. She wanted to feel those lips full on hers once more… so badly. You could say that she had nothing at all to lose. After all, the articles had been finished, and she wasn't working for _Runway_ and Miranda Priestly anymore. The worst she could receive was a no, you could say in that situation. However, Andy had thought it all through already. The worst she could receive wasn't just a mere 'no' now. Maybe, deep down, Miranda Priestly was a homophobe or… The most surprising people with the most surprising of jobs were one of those sometimes. Well, even if Miranda wasn't, it was entirely different to be gay yourself and accept that fact. Andy had surely been there… What if Miranda Priestly got offended, if Andy told her that she felt more for her or let her know in another way? Or worse: what if she laughed at Andy and her own foolishness, as if she thought she could get her, the Queen of fashion?

Andy Sachs knew she couldn't. That was the final thought with which she pushed that suggestion away, like every so often. It would take a long time before she could push away the memory of that kiss and what it had made her feel, though. It seemed that the length of time that had passed until she had finally figured her feelings had only strengthened it in a way. She blew at her bangs, obviously frustrated.

If only she could… but then she heard a crash and looked down to see the remains of her cup and the little coffee that had still been in it on the tiled floor. Had it snapped in her hands… or had she dropped it? She looked at her hand and found it was fine, so she had most likely dropped it. Gah, had she really been that far off in her own world that she hadn't even noticed it slip from her hand?

She bent down through her knees and reached for some larger shards of porcelain. She would wipe away the smaller ones and the remains of the coffee after that. She once had made the mistake of not having picked up the larger pieces when she had been younger, and that had left a huge scratch in the floor of their kitchen at home. Her mother had not been pleased and had told her that big chunks had a bigger chance of making scratches in the tiles. Never had she tried to wipe it all away without taking larger shreds of whatever she had dropped first again.

She reached for them with one hand and then cradled them carefully in the other. Reaching over for a piece that had jumped a bit further away, she lost her balance, though. In order not to fall knees-first into the mess on the floor, Andy set her hand down, right in the big chunk of porcelain she had tried to reach. It cracked beneath the force of her hand and the smaller pieces dug into her pale skin. She winced and shot upright awkwardly, immediately running to the sink. Andy dropped the pieces of china on the kitchen counter and turned on the sink tap. She tried her best to rinse away the shards of porcelain that were stuck, the water in the sink turning red. _Fuck, it hurt. Of course, it should have happened to her again…_

Actually, Andy should have been surprised that she hadn't had more stuff like that happen as a child or an adult, caused by her abnormal clumsiness. She just hoped that the running water would take care of the majority of the pieces. She didn't look at all forward to finding tweezers to get the others from her palm. Well, at least she had her tetanus shot renewed last year. Her hand would have to be bandaged for a couple of days at the least. Glass cuts and china cuts infected easily… She had experienced that when she had had some pieces of colored glass stuck in her leg as a little girl…

Andy's head turned when she heard the door to the kitchen open. Courtney just stood in the doorway, eyeing her for just a moment. Andy smiled apologetically. "I dropped my coffee cup, and while picking up the pieces, I, err… I lost my balance and…"

By the time she had finished, Courtney had managed to tiptoe past the mess on the floor to beside her. "Oh, no! Say no more now, Andy." He briefly pulled her hand from under the stream of water to inspect it a tad better, seeing some pieces still lodged in the white skin. He sighed. "Oh, dear," he said, cocking his head to see if the change of perspective gave him a better sight. "I'll go get a pair of tweezers, shall I?"

Andy smiled up at him both gratefully and slightly apologetically. Her clumsiness seemed to really attract him. She remembered that time when she had tripped over the end of her scarf upon arrival in the office… and fallen straight into Courtney's arms then. She watched him turn and leave once more, holding her hand back under the running water to rinse away the blood that had formed on it again. Maybe a few more pieces could be washed off before he returned… saving her from a few more winces. Miranda Priestly would be the death of her someday in one way or another, she was absolutely sure of it now if she hadn't already been. She wondered if it happened that a name was listed as a Cause of Death sometimes.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36 (Wednesday, May 16, 2007) 

"I believe if he's good, we shouldn't really doubt at all," John Englund stated as he sat himself down on the chair by the window, at the table that the waiter had just indicated. Andy sat herself down beside him, so that their guest could sit opposite, where they would both be able to see him and look him in the eyes directly. That was the best way to have a nice conversation –– most comfortable, maybe. Most polite? After all, you could see both the verbal and the nonverbal better that way. You didn't really feel like you 'missed' something as sometimes happened when two conversational partners didn't face each other when talking.

John had been contacted by someone the night prior at the company, who had asked if they could do with another writer. He was a great fan of the magazine, according to the lengthy e-mail, and really thought that he could contribute. He had received his major in Creative Writing only two years ago, before going abroad to get some experience… and had returned to New York recently, ready for a new challenge again… which he really hoped to find with them. Despite the fact that they weren't looking for a fourth writer actively, John had considered the mail and gone to Andy's office, asking what she thought about it, and she had agreed it appeared interesting and that maybe they should arrange a meeting with him as he had already suggested. This meeting had been set for lunch that day. If she could believe in what Leyla had stated, the young guy had seemed incredibly excited…

"I'm afraid that most of those who offer themselves so willingly are often not that great, and it is consequently very difficult to say what is good and what isn't with anything that's 'creative'… because it is therefore subjective, too. What attracts one person, doesn't necessarily another. I'm not really sure what I'm doing here, I mean, I'm just––"

"Your opinion matters to me. You aren't writer-in-chief for no reason now," he said as he laid his cell phone down on the table, as if he wanted to be able to accept any possible calls immediately if maybe their wannabe-writer couldn't find the restaurant or cancelled. "Plus you have to work with him, if he is hired –– therefore, it is of importance that you believe you can," he reasoned.

Andy only offered a small smile in John's direction and crossed her legs under the table. Damn, these tables were very low. She could only barely cross her legs –– anyone with slightly fatter thighs would be forced to keep their legs resting beside each other on the chair. She smiled slightly at how she had been called fat when she had begun working at _Runway_. She weighed more now than she had then. Fine, she had lost some weight over the year she had worked there… but it had soon piled back on after leaving. It didn't really affect Andy's clothes size or anything, though –– which was a huge relief. Otherwise, she would have been screwed.

"I'm kind of not ready now, though," Andy honestly said. She would have felt less superfluous sitting there if she had known sooner. You couldn't just decide if you liked someone as a writer and a person based on their appearance and small talk. She secretly hoped he had thought of taking some of his work for them to look through over lunch. What if he really was a good writer but didn't appear so in her eyes and then he wouldn't be given a chance at all to work for _Life Today_ ; or what if he was a really crappy one but Andy still thought him good and then he ruined everything? Then she would be responsible! Of course, John would undoubtedly have his own opinion, too, but would rely on hers still. The man 'believed in" Andy too much. Truly. "If you had let me know a bit sooner than nine-thirty this morning, I could have written down some questions which I wanted to ask him."

"I'll hope that he's as good a talker as that he says he's a writer; then it will all come together."

Andy had just opened her mouth to agree with him, when their attention was suddenly caught by the door opening and a young guy, maybe just a couple of years younger than Andy, stepping in. They both had a nice view of the entrance from where they sat, and they couldn't possibly _not_ notice him. John and Andy shared a look with each other and confirmed they both thought the same… If that was indeed the Leonard Kroll they were supposed to meet about now, in regard to being a fourth writer at _Life Today_ … Well, his hair didn't really appear to have been cut or even combed in many months, large thick-framed black nerd glasses stood on his nose, and his style of clothing… They were quite noticeable, even from their distance. He must have been a skater boy and kept the clothes. His shirt was an ugly yellow and his jeans were hanging far below his scrawny buttocks. His shirt really was only just long enough to cover any part of his boxers or whatever would have been visible otherwise. If this was him, they would definitely have to talk about business dress. You could have freedom of the clothing and whatever, but there was a certain line, right? It would be the same as if Andy came to work in her bikini top and a skirt… with old flip flops! Because his shoes definitely weren't any better than his clothes! Oh dear. No _Runway_ at least, that's for certain!

They both watched as he made his way over to the main desk and saw him address the waiter who had indicated their seats earlier. If that was indeed their guy… That couldn't be him, couldn't… Alas, the waiter extended his arm towards their table. They saw the young man slowly nod in appreciation, mumble a word of presumable gratitude and make his way over to them with a wide smile and a slight jump in his step.

Andy had learned in her childhood and from experience not to judge someone at first appearance –– especially since it did not always say the same about the interior –– but truth was that it did play its part, whether one wanted it to or not. And as he came towards them, neither of them was quite sure what to make of either him or the situation…

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37 

Both John and Andy smiled at Leonard once more and he returned the gesture, before slowly he turned and left. Within minutes, Leonard had disappeared into the crowd of New York people crossing the large city at that insanely busy hour. If it hadn't been for his bright yellow shirt, they would most likely have lost track of him even sooner.

They looked at each other and laughed. They had become surprisingly well-tuned in with each other. "He's definitely got more brain than looks," John began, inclining his head for Andy to follow him. The restaurant wasn't that far from the company, so a cab or public transportation wasn't really necessary.

Andy fell into step with him as she nodded. "I agree," she said. "You wouldn't have said that if you just saw him, though. I don't believe anyone would have truly expected him to be the way he is mainly by his way of dressing. He seems to be motivated for what he does atop of knowing an awful lot, though. His articles were amazing; his style really intrigued me. It kind of drew me in," Andy said as they waited at a red light until they could cross the street. "The way in which he showed them to us… He seemed proud of what he had done but not overly, not narcissistically, and you could see on his face how much he enjoyed writing them –– I mean, how he said where he wrote each piece and how, why…"

John nodded. "I agree entirely. I'm quite sure he could mean a lot to our company. Working with him seems a joy as well. What do you say about it?"

The writer-in-chief of _Life Today_ nodded. "Yeah," she said as the light jumped to green and the herd of New York people crossed the busy street, "I'm certain it would be nice working with him and that neither Erica nor Robert would believe differently. He seems like the sort of guy who has an opinion but who'll happily abide by others if they have a better idea. Like, he'll do water with the wine if necessary to the benefit of everyone… or at least to the magazine."

John merely nodded. It then remained quiet for a few minutes between them as they walked, until the Chief-Editor broke the pause between them. Andy hadn't failed to notice his repetitive tries to get the words together and say what he really wanted to say –– just as if he wasn't even quite sure he wanted to tell her. "Linda and I had a long talk on Friday, when she came to me with the children again."

Andy turned her head towards him again and listened attentively. "Oh?" she encouraged. She hadn't heard any more of the situation between him and his wife, not since that time when they had kissed and almost gone home with each other. She was glad they appeared to have talked, though. She assumed that they had not done much of that lately –– not without any yelling or other disagreeing. Wasn't that typically how it went down?

"She mentioned that she thought we should take a sort of relationship therapy, and fight until we make it. The children are young, and maybe we gave up a bit too soon."

"So does that mean she's going to move back in with you?"

John shrugged his shoulders lightly. "I don't know yet. We haven't talked about it really, but I believe that it might be the case, especially if therapy should work."

Andy gave him a small smile. "I'm really happy for you."

John's smile seemed genuinely sincere, too. They were quiet again for a little while longer. Nothing else needed to be said. They did in fact mention 'private' matters sometimes. John would, for instance mention he had to go home early for the kids or that one of them was ill or so. At the same time, Andy would tell him a little about herself; she would mention that her godson was happy with his mini-Hummer or that her folks had been excited to see her again. That kind of stuff was often shared between them. It could be named 'hallway talk'.

However, it never went any deeper than that, and with the exception of that same night, they didn't really go anywhere together after work hours. They were good colleagues, but they would never be 'best buddies'. Maybe because they were both in such entirely different places in their respective lives? It immediately got Andy's mind running fast again. Age difference was irrelevant, but what it truly entailed… With age, you somehow took on different stances in life, too –– which were tainted by different needs, different desires. Different values. Although Andy knew of plenty of couples with great age differences which had made it work, she felt a pang of fear inside her. It was not warranted, because Miranda and she weren't even together. However, it still elicited a strange feeling of fear deep inside her. Miranda had a nice home where she lived in, a nice job which undoubtedly paid fortunes. She had children long past the toddler age, and the power to flick her feminine fingers and divide her time extremely well between the both. Andy _still_ lived in the temporary studio Nate and she had rented, with no plans of changing anytime soon. Andy had a job which paid more than what she was used to and which she really loved… but she had no children or plans of this changing anytime soon either. She hadn't felt her 'clock' ticking yet. Miranda's must have stopped already…

She sighed as they calmly walked the steps to _Life Today._ Miranda had everything and was undoubtedly able to do _anything_ she wanted. What she didn't have was a partner at the moment. However, did Andy, aside from everything else, even fit in that world? How _could_ you fit into the world of a person who didn't give a damn at all about you, who seemed to go on perfectly fine without you and found their friendship and social happiness with others? She knew Miranda chatted with acquaintances daily and cared about them very much, even in her own unique way. She doubted that Miranda even had any idea of how much it hurt Andy to see her going on just fine without her, see her not caring about her while she did about others, the fact pushed under Andy's bloody nose every day. Miranda had apparently moved past it all without looking back, as if it hadn't happened, while that moment between them had rocked Andy's entire world.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38 (Thursday, May 17, 2007)

Upon leafing through the new issue of _Life Today_ , Andy found she was very happy with how her most recent article looked. She doubted she could have done any better than what she had done with this. She only hoped that the magazine readers would like it, too, and that it would meet their expectations. At least this time, she knew Miranda wouldn't call for brunch together. After that intense kiss, she was certain that Miranda would do everything within her power to keep them from meeting again, especially in the near future. It caused a sudden sadness in Andy which she couldn't quite place… She was having a hard time distinguishing between emotions and facts at the moment.

She reached for the bottle of mango shampoo. It apparently was the last one on the shelf, she noticed as she retrieved it and threw it in her shopping basket. With that, she concluded she had all she needed and made her way to the counter to pay. Unfortunately though, the rest of the world appeared to have thought about going to the store on their way home today, and thus she filed into a line, mentally readying herself for a long wait. She didn't like waiting, but she was sure no one did really.

Andy Sachs set her shopping basket down on the floor, so that she could push it further with her foot when necessary. Then she wouldn't have to hold it anymore until she could unload. Her eye suddenly fell upon a row of magazines, and knowing that she had a long wait ahead, she plucked a fancy one from the rack, flipped the cover and began to leaf through it. Until she reached Page Six, at least, when unexpectedly a large picture of a very familiar woman from her past caught her eye. A picture of Miranda Fucking Priestly adorned half of the page –– undoubtedly to catch the attention of the readers. It definitely succeeded for Andy. Her heart must have stopped for a minute when she caught sight of it, and it must have definitely flat-lined entirely as she continued reading. The huge headline read, "Dragon Lady spotted with New York fashionista!" in a way which definitely suggested, if the page they were on didn't, that the relationship between the two women was not one that was purely platonic.

Right below the headline was a little bit of text and at the end of the column two smaller pictures of Miranda Priestly with a tall, dark brunette. They were leaning incredibly close together and with some imagination you could believe that Miranda Priestly had just kissed or was about to kiss the other woman's cheek in the first and her neck in the other. Andy's heart had begun to beat again. In fact, it was ramming like mad against her ribcage, she realized. The picture was taken in the dark without a flash, it seemed –– of course any paparazzi would have been sensible enough not to use the latter. Miranda would undoubtedly have seen it and possibly killed the man or woman responsible –– especially if the pictures confirmed rather than insinuated. She liked pictures from photo shoots and world events, but she really hated the paparazzi intruding on her privacy, and, sadly enough, that's just what most did.

"Lady!"

Andy's gaze immediately shot up. She turned her head, looking into the face of a somewhat older man behind her, who nodded his head forward, as if telling her she should hurry ahead already. She turned her head once more, realizing that the woman before her had moved a couple of feet ahead while she had remained where she stood. "Sorry!" she squeaked, giving the shopping basket a good push and shuffling after it closer to the counter, holding onto the magazine as if it was a lifeline. Maybe at that very moment it somehow was.

Andy smiled in a sheepish sort of way, but the man only looked back rather sourly, not pleased at all. She cast her gaze down again apologetically and was absorbed in Page Six within minutes, her eyes trained upon the pictures: the 'intimate' position of Miranda, the other woman and the whole context.

This seemed much closer than an 'air kiss', and Miranda Priestly rarely –– if ever –– gave those 'real' kisses, even on the cheek. She only ever did that with people she really truly liked and saw on regular basis. She squinted as she looked at the pictures, trying to figure if she maybe knew the woman, but apart from the model-like figure, she didn't really seem familiar to Andy. If she had seen her at all while she had worked for Miranda, then it must have been only once or so.

She began to read through the text and with each line read, her eyes got wider and heart beat faster as well. It spoke of the numerous lesbian flings of Miranda Priestly in the past and it made her feel on the verge of crying or going into shock or… something. Was it even true? If so, which part? _All? Everything?_ It couldn't, no way.

"Miss! Are you gonna take that or not?"

Andy's head shot up again, and she glanced at the woman behind the counter, who was eyeing her with raised eyebrows and irritably. She looked upon the line of people which had moved ahead already. She immediately threw the magazine down on the conveyer belt and bent down to retrieve her shopping basket, unloading her purchases and… still somehow feeling her heartbeat thump against the side of her head and her heart race at what she had just seen and more importantly read. Her eyes stung as if the upsetting images were burning themselves deep onto her retinas.

This came like a slap in the face, because if it was indeed true –– although Andy had learned not to take Page Six that seriously –– then this just made it all the more difficult. One reason less for them not to be together and one reason more for Andy to tear her hair from her head over it all. If it was true, then she certainly must have been below Miranda Priestly's level. Because, even if Andy had profiled herself as heterosexual, it didn't seem like the sort of futility Miranda Fucking Priestly would ever have stopped for at all. It left the age difference… and the fact that Andy undoubtedly just wasn't good enough for her: not as a second assistant, not as a writer, and certainly never as a _lover_ or even _partner_. Oh, well.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39 (Friday, May 18, 2007)

It had been a great relief when John arrived at the office of _Life Today_ earlier that morning with a skip in his step, as he sometimes did when he was very excited or happy. It had given her some hope, if the wide smile on her superior's face hadn't already convinced her that he came bearing good news. When he informed her of all the positive reviews already in his work inbox after just a day, the relief had settled in fully and coursed through her body. He had forwarded a couple to Andy's mail address: readers saying it was all they had expected and wanted, and far better than they could have imagined. One of them had even stated that _Life Today_ was getting better each issue, and that had made both Andy and (maybe especially) John Englund happy indeed. John had been so happy in fact that he had promised her a small bonus in her next paycheck.

However, John had noticed she seemed strained, too –– like she wasn't as happy as that he would have expected, as that she should… as if her reaction was being limited by something or someone on Andy's mind. As if something had happened that was bothering her and upsetting her maybe. She was trying to hide it, but he could see it in the way in which his writer-in-chief's smile appeared somehow forced. As if she wanted to but couldn't quite… mean it. He had asked her what was the matter, worry for her having momentarily pushed aside his own excitement, but she had said she was merely tired –– a clear indication that she didn't want to talk about it. Therefore, he hadn't pushed on. 'Tired' was something he somehow didn't believe covered it all. Thus, he had soon left the office with a last 'well done!'.

Something had been on her mind, though –– still was: Miranda Fucking Priestly, rather unsurprisingly. Images of Page Six kept pushing their way to the surface of her mind. How could they not? They hadn't even lessened in intensity at all since she had laid her eyes on them.

She was a little bit off, rather unfocused and confused by it, but even had she been sloshed and half unconscious, she still would have noticed the trademark Mercedes –– unmistakably Miranda's. Andy could see it from across the street, and likely would have recognized who it belonged to even from miles away. It caught her attention immediately and made Andy stop right then and there. Her stomach plummeted but heart raced, just like it had when she had been told to do the first Miranda Priestly article. Then again when the Dragon Lady had called for brunch; when she had been told to do the second article; when she had been made to observe at _Runway_ … and when she had seen that article on Page Six. However, the strength of her reaction now was greater than all those others combined. There was absolutely no reason for Miranda Priestly's car, maybe Miranda Priestly herself included, to be there by the curb by Andy's apartment building, on a Friday night. Was this another trap, another 'talk', rather monologue, from Miranda Priestly, with the Dragon Lady telling Andy to take more risks, how Andy's innocent article could have been better? Still after that kiss in the kitchen of _Life Today_?

Andy swallowed the bile that began rising in her throat and continued to walk ahead slowly and attentively to the car, first crossing the street and then walking the rest of the distance ahead, closer to her apartment and to the Mercedes… and with every step nearer, she became more breathless and more nervous.

Then, just as she thought that she was imagining things and that nothing would happen, suddenly the door on the driver's side opened, and Mirandaa's regular driver Roy stepped from the car onto the street. Andy halted, waiting for him to speak and maybe say what he was doing there. She wasn't sure if words would leave her in anything other than a high squeak in any case.

"Miranda requested for me to drive you to her townhouse once you got home from work. I don't really know why either, so don't ask me," he added upon seeing Andy's surprised face. "She didn't tell me, and you know like everyone else not to ask Miranda Priestly for a reason about anything that she ever does, at least if you don't want to lose your job for it…"

Andy's mouth opened. Her very first reaction would have been to shout: 'what?!', however, she didn't react much at all. She was just speechless –– it did mean that Miranda wasn't in the car but that Roy must have been waiting for her on the Dragon Lady's command for however long. It indirectly meant that _Miranda_ had waited. She had chosen not to pluck her from work or overwhelm her like last time. She had… _waited._ "You've waited for me? How long?" Andy wondered aloud.

"About an hour and a half," he answered, then inclined his head to the car as if urging Andy to get in so that they could get going already.

"Then didn't Miranda need to be driven anywhere this afternoon anymore?" Andy asked.

Roy's head shook. "No. She went home early. I was sent here right after I dropped her off and was told to wait as long as necessary."

"So, do I have time to go to the bathroom first and change? I'm kind of sweaty and… Miranda doesn't like sweaty."

That was definitely not a lie. She gave Roy a small smile as he fleetingly pointed his chin at the building in agreement and Andy hurried off, her smile disappearing fast again. Oh, my gosh. What did she have in mind this time? Somehow, Andy didn't have hope for a happy ending.

Whatever it was that the Dragon Lady was planning, Andy Sachs doubted it was going to be fun for her in any case. Miranda Priestly just didn't do 'nice' with anyone –– unless temporarily to get what she wanted, only to be entirely different behind their backs. Miranda Priestly was a bit of a hypocrite … Fine, she was undoubtedly the biggest hypocrite she had ever met in her entire life. And the fact that she had waited for Andy this afternoon in a way… was most likely the opposite of what she would find when Roy dropped her off at the townhouse –– just a fake interlude to the final blow? Maybe she finally would lose her job, her career, tonight.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40 

Andy Sachs swallowed, nervously so, as the driver pulled up to the curb where he had left her so many times before. However, this time she didn't have the Book or dry-cleaning with her. It was just her, with her small handbag with her keys, cell phone and wallet. It was just her, neatly showered and wearing not-so-sweaty, clean clothes… only her. Only Andy. The woman Miranda Priestly had never quite seemed to like at all.

Smiling uncertainly, she met Roy's gaze in the rearview mirror. His face was absolutely unreadable, as usual. He had learned to hide his thoughts from his face for Miranda, Andy secretly assumed. "Would you like me to wait here?"

Andy remained quiet for a long moment, until she slowly shook her head no. "I don't know what she has planned, and thus… have no idea how long it will take. Please don't wait here for me. Go home, and I'll take care of myself when the time comes," Andy stated, continuing to watch him in the mirror. The look upon his face stayed entirely unchanged, until he nodded curtly in agreement. She did, too, before opening the door, whispering goodnight and stepping from Miranda's car. She remained watching until it had disappeared from sight. She looked down and took a rather deep breath before turning back to the big, intimidating house. Andy Sachs had never realized quite how intimidating it really was. _You can do this, Andy._

She slowly set her foot upon the very first step and forced herself to continue, walking to the equally big and intimidating door of the townhouse. By the time she reached it, another voice was screaming loudly inside her head, much louder than the first: _I can't do this! I'm going to barf from the stress any second now!_

This time, Andy was without a key to let herself in, she realized, as she willed the negative voice far away for the time being, and she looked to see if there was a door bell of sorts, wondering if she should just knock or if that would just piss Miranda off more than she undoubtedly already was. Oh dear, what if the twins were home and she woke them with it? Then again, how else would she make her presence known? Miranda couldn't know everything –– she couldn't just smell it when she stood there, she reasoned with herself then. Whatever she did could go horribly to the piranhas. This was a trick situation. Maybe it was a test. Then, all of a sudden, she found herself face to face with the woman on her mind. Miranda had opened the door. She must have smelled it anyway.

"Could you dally any longer?" Miranda remarked in her usual sharp tone, quirking her eyebrow at the brunette as if she were to challenge her.

"No. I, uh, the twins…"

"The twins are with their grandmother," Miranda corrected, finally moving aside to let her guest in and closing the door behind her before moving over to the stairs, leading her up there. Andy could have sworn the smell of alcohol wafted into her nostrils as the Editor-in-Chief of _Runway_ America passed her. She stopped halfway when she realized that her guest wasn't following. She seemed to have expected her to follow without question, but… how could Andy when the last time she ascended those stairs she had nearly lost her job over it, when it had been hammered into her hard not to go any further than the small table with the flowers on or the closet for the dry-cleaning, unless Miranda Priestly herself required her to do otherwise –– not the twins or anyone else, but only Miranda herself.

So Andy just stood in wonder, gazing at the woman who had halted on the stairs. Then the other woman turned to her and looked down at her former assistant, slightly leaning over the railing, and Andy noticed in her eyes, even over the distance, what the vague alcohol smell had already hinted at seconds earlier. "You've been drinking," she stated. There was something strange in those blue eyes. She saw it with her own father at Christmas and New Years parties, each and every year. "Are you…?" she asked, for though she had seen her drink a glass or two at functions, Andy had never actually seen the Dragon Lady intoxicated before. She never could have imagined it either until the realization hit her that that was indeed the case now. The disbelief-filled statement had left her mouth before she considered that even if it was true, she certainly wouldn't answer it with 'yes'. She wasn't disappointed there.

"Nonsense," Miranda countered. "You know, Andréa, just because I had a glass after dinner for once doesn't mean that I'm intoxicated. You need more to get someone sloshed, even tipsy –– especially me. Now, are you afraid of _stairs_ all of a sudden? I seem to remember you were very hasty to climb them once. My office is up on the first floor," Miranda said before turning again and continuing without even wavering on her heels.

Andy carefully considered what the Dragon Lady had said. Should she believe that she wasn't intoxicated? Had she really miscalculated? Maybe… she was telling the truth? Andy would never be able to walk in that pair of ridiculously high stilettos in any state, so if she had truly been sloshed, then Miranda would most likely have been much more unstable on her feet as well. Oh, who was she kidding? This was Miranda Fucking Priestly, who could walk perfectly in any single pair of heels no matter how high, how thin or what shape they were. There was just no other possibility in regard to that –– which undoubtedly shouldn't even be possible in any way at all.

She took a deep breath and did as Miranda wished. She could have heard a small pin drop as she ascended the stairs; the sound of her leather pumps squishing with each step that she took was screaming loud in her ears. _Office._ Was she here for business only then? _Oh, dear._ This was going to be the final blow. Miranda would say that she was very disappointed in the article and would make sure she never wrote anything about anyone ever again, would be banned from all newspapers and magazines for the rest of her life and bound to go and collect garbage. At least no one there would care about how she looked –– not like it had been at _Runway_ at all. Hurrah for garbage collector suits! _Oh, dear._

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!

* * *

**Author's** **Note:** If you like it, then you should leave a good review on it! ;)


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

"You still haven't learned the ropes of article writing. I must admit that it was more daring than your first, but you have missed some opportunities to make it even more compelling," Miranda said triumphantly and sat down on the sofa in what Andy, who hadn't entered the room herself, assumed to be her upstairs office. The elder woman stopped talking and turned to the doorway in which Andy had halted, from where she was just gazing at the Dragon Lady, making no move at all to step either forward or even back.

"I was happy with it," she said, "and a lot of readers seemed to be, too." Miranda smirked in that typical, denigrating way, which absolutely detonated the brunette. Her tolerance for Miranda Priestly's behavior had broken the day she finally left her in Paris, and it hadn't really built back and she really doubted it ever would. True, part of Andy was scared of Miranda's great power and what she could do, but that was always easily pushed to the back of her mind when she behaved in that trademark condescending manner. Maybe… it was the confrontation of being below Miranda's level that made her angry about it? It suppressed even those strong lingering feelings. Little did she know that her own anger elicited those suppressed feelings within Miranda Priestly… "I'm not you, Miranda. I don't do everything your way, and I doubt I ever will," she said.

And then… Miranda laughed. It wasn't really like the many fake laughs and smiles she had heard or seen when Miranda was with those people she pretended to like in the eye of the public. It was… different, but not… entirely. Andy wondered if she laughed like that in her private life, and if so did that mean she was part of that then. If so, why was she a part of it and how? No, she was getting way ahead of herself here. She forced herself to go back to the now. She was right here with her, no use thinking about it. She carefully eyed the older woman, meeting her gaze when the other stopped laughing. They held it for longer than necessary or appropriate, and certainly longer than Miranda would ever have allowed in any other circumstance. If Andy had looked like that at her while at _Runway_ , she would have assuredly got a snarky reply in response.

Andy wasn't really sure what to make of her reaction. It didn't seem to be appreciative but not exactly condemning either. Finally time for the truth then. They had done enough dancing around it now. She was done with the conflicting emotions, conflicting behavior, and that might bloody well be who Miranda Priestly was, but she was so done with it. She couldn't take this any longer. She had come to terms with her truth, and it was time Miranda now did the same. Maybe it wasn't bothering Miranda, but it was troubling Andy big time. It had so troubled her for a really long time… She certainly wouldn't actually receive an answer, but… Andy Sachs had done heartbreak before, and maybe _hearing_ it from her would just give her closure and ensure she would cope with it all in due time –– with _her_. All this uncertainty and shit wasn't doing any good at all!

"Your own typical prudence and innocence keeps you from reaching your top, but, of course, that's your decision…" Her tone of voice suggested what she would lose if she went ahead in 'her way', intimated that even though it indeed was Andy's decision ultimately, she wouldn't stop reminding her of how it was not the way Miranda herself would have chosen.

"Why is 'prudence' and 'innocence' as you say or honesty and _refusing_ to lower myself to such standards as I would word it instead so bad? Why is it less than being atop of everything? You should really know better than anyone it is sometimes lonely at the top, Miranda. It is not something everyone does or would ever consider doing –– I, for instance, could never do it."

"Oh, you could," Miranda argued, nodding to emphasize that what she was saying.

"I disagree," Andy immediately replied once more. "I have all I want," she said, and as she did so, she knew that that was in fact a lie, and her eyes fluttered shut, not wanting to look at –– nor away –– from the woman she knew could make the lie she had told true. She couldn't do it.

"Almost," Miranda corrected knowingly. "There's one little thing still missing, which I know of, until you have all you want."

"I don't really––" Andy began, her forehead creasing in non-understanding at what Miranda was saying.

"Oh, you do," Miranda argued back once more in her confident, creepy way… which made one believe she knew basically everything about everyone. "I've seen you look at me. I've seen your gaze linger upon me, in a different way than others' do… I must admit that most of the time, those looks are normally directed at me by males instead, though."

"I'm not gay, unlike you," Andy said without really knowing why. Well, it was a fact, for she still liked boys, but why was that coming from her mouth at that moment? She took a breath. "Why did you tell Roy to drive me here once I got home from work? What are your intentions? I want to know if it is really worth the stay, because… right now, I just don't know whether it is. You confuse me terribly, Miranda, and I'm so done with it." She never raised her voice as she said this, and she watched how Miranda seemed to consider her for a moment, then stood and stepped closer to where she had halted.

"I know that you're not gay. You are too girly, are too much into boys. However, can you say that you don't want me?"

"We'll turn the question around then," Andy said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I've read the article on Page Six…"

"Oh… that," Miranda said in a belittling tone to wave it off.

"Yes, _that_ ," Andy said, and she could feel the anger flare once more.

Miranda sighed non-committedly. Then, unexpectedly, she answered. "I had a fling with an Argentinean woman after my first husband," she said. "I have had some dalliances in Paris when I was younger. However, I've never been serious with a woman, and the one whom I was shot with is not my lover, nor ever was or will be. She and I are opposite poles –– not even enough to be social. She was my predecessor at _Runway_ America before I became Editor-in-Chief."

Andy was caught slightly off guard at first from shock, just gazing at the other woman wide-eyed. She needed to gather her wits first. Miranda was actually _sharing_ something personal with her on request, and that in her own house to boot. "Because gay or gay relationships aren't often condoned at the top?" she finally managed to ask in a calm tone once Andy had gathered those wits.

Then she laughed once more and smiled in a way Andy had never heard the woman laugh or seen her smile, but she only barely had the chance to be mesmerized by the sound and the sight, her heart scarcely getting a chance to swell up from whatever emotion it was, because her breath caught and brain just stopped as Miranda slowly closed the distance between them. She could feel her lower back being pushed into the door frame, Miranda's warmth and heat, her smell and feel, compensating for whatever pain. "Oh, Ahn-dre-ah," she dawdled, in that thick accent. "Haven't you learnt that I do what I want no matter what? I have been married and divorced thrice, and was left wondering if they cared about me at all on each occasion. They never satisfied me nor understood me. They took all that they wanted, which was a sum of my money. Of course, I was always wise enough never to allow them everything, but still."

Andy swallowed. She could feel the warm breath of Miranda Priestly upon her cheeks and face, her body pressed up against her own. The woman must truly have no idea at all about how much self-control she was demanding of the brunette now. She was struggling with the last of her restraint not to lean in and kiss _her_. She looked so beautiful right now. Andy didn't believe she had ever seen those blue eyes so near, so open. The faint smell of evaporating booze dazzled her, and she could have cried with pure need.

"When I _look_ at you, I see the battle in your innocent eyes. When you are with me, I see you struggle not to like and want me the way you do –– and that does make _all_ the difference." Then Andy was lost. Warm lips descended upon hers, her own hands suspended in mid-air as Miranda's settled upon her hips. She could feel her lips moving and at the same time not at all. It was as if they worked on their own accord, following Miranda's lead and… Hell, she was a good kisser. Andy never would have expected her to do anything else but lead, but that was fine as long as they continued kissing. She could feel her breath coming shorter, as if the other woman was stealing it away… and maybe she was. Who cared? She moaned as those soft lips slipped off of her own and groaned even louder as they descended upon her jaw line, her back arching off of the door frame.

"I don't know what the Hell is the matter with me, but I want to take you to bed right here, right now," Andy whispered, still high on the kiss. Shaky, feminine hands snared into the elder woman's hair as she grew bolder, and she guided her face up again so their lips touched once more. She felt like she was going to melt any second. The thought of being pushed up against a door frame in Miranda Priestly's house and its owner _kissing_ her with such vigor… The realization that it was Miranda Priestly who was kissing her like this, so freely… "Oh!" she gasped as she felt an experienced, warm hand cup and squeeze her breast, a thumb running over her nipple –– ridiculous how she had located it so easily and had elicited such delight in Andy through so many layers of clothing. Andy had never really reacted like that when a man had touched her breasts. In fact, after years of having been intimate with men, she had never even thought of her bosom as an erogenous zone –– boy, was she sadly mistaken there! She was now bound to forever change her mind in that respect.

Miranda's other hand moved to the zipper of her jeans, and she could feel herself grow so wet. She actually keened as Miranda's hand slipped between her slightly spread legs… and cupped her roughly through the fabric. She was so fucking wet now –– wetter than she had ever been with any of her male lovers before. Miranda would just have to keep this going a little while longer and she would come, shaking in her hand hard… so hard. Oh dear, what was this _woman_ doing to her?

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!

* * *

**Author's Note:** If you like it, then you should leavea good review on it! ;)


	42. Chapter 42

**_How Alike We Are_ ** **has now officially gone from T to M Rated.**

* * *

Chapter 42 (Saturday, May 19, 2007)

This was not her bed. She knew before she even opened her eyes, if only from the way in which the mattress curved to the position of her body unlike her own, which always required a lot of tossing and turning until she found a good position. Andy hadn't been sleeping very well for ages, although the reason for that could have been the company as well. With a smile on her face, Andy turned to the side. Her eyes fluttered open… and met no one lying on the opposite side of the bed. Her smile immediately disappeared. She sat upright in the bed, holding the sheet against her, but letting her eyes dance across the room. "Miranda?" Andy called even though somehow she knew that there would be no answer. "Miranda?" she called once more. Again, only the faint echo of her own voice was heard. She sighed deeply and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, gathering the sheet around her frame as she slowly stood.

An impending feeling of fear began to grow in her stomach as she quickly padded over to the door and then stepped into the hallway. "Anyone home?" Still, she got no answer at all. She gathered the sheet higher and began to descend the stairs, hoping against hope that someone would answer and that her fears wouldn't come true. The only sound she heard was that of her own bare feet on tiles as she walked across the at-grade floor, peeping into the abandoned kitchen and padding further into the living room, which was just as deserted, it seemed. Andy's fears appeared to have become true. She should have guessed this was going to happen. She shouldn't have hoped even unconsciously that it would be much more than a night, more than _sex ––_ really satisfying, hot sex. Miranda Priestly would never want to have a _relationship_ with her. Imagine Miranda Priestly being gay in public, or even having a serious relationship of any sort at all with a woman… with an ex-assistant atop of that as well? No way.

She shook her head, turning around to go upstairs again. It was easy to disappear in the middle of the night, but much more difficult to say it to someone's face how and why you had chosen to leave. She doubted whether the Dragon Lady would feel much over that, but still she at least wanted to tell her to go to Hell herself and tell her what a heartless bitch she was to make abuse of how someone loved you just to get off or whatever. She needed to tell her and from there, _hopefully_ break even… She wiped the trail of warm tears off of her cheek. Anyone would give all that they had for a single night with Miranda, but the real trouble was that it was more than attraction she felt for her. She had only fully realized it the night before when she had straddled Miranda's naked body and gazed down upon her in that very same bed in which she had woken. That moment, she had fully realized what true beauty was and that she wanted to wake up with that woman every day, touch her every day in that way she had allowed her to mere hours ago. She didn't want it to be that way, though. Because if being able to watch from a distance only hadn't truly killed her yet, then being able to fuck but not love definitely would.

She sank down on the edge of the bed again and let her teary eyes fall closed. Memories of the night with Miranda flooded back in all too easily…

_Andy's hand trailed down along the midline of Miranda's body from between her sweaty breasts to her navel. The two women never broke eye contact as she did. Miranda's bosom was rising and falling faster than normal, and it rather excited Andy to know it was indeed she who caused that. To be quite fair, her own heartbeat and breathing had increased considerably as well since Miranda had pulled off the last article of clothing between them –– Andy's panties._

_She could feel her own wetness against Miranda's thigh when she straddled it, and in return she felt Miranda's own against her knee, although nowhere near as much. Either she wasn't good at turning a woman on or Miranda Priestly really had incredibly good self-control. Maybe it was a little bit of both? No, undoubtedly just the first –– undoubtedly it must just be her, not being enough for Miranda and it showing even between the sheets._

_Andy's fingertips trailed slowly lower, halting just above the grayish patch of curls between her spread legs. Blue eyes dared her to go on, her slightly parted lips and the warm breath that escaped her mouth a little faster than it should definitely reminding Andy why she wanted to fuck the woman, but she didn't want to disappoint either. Her middle finger experimentally slipped between her curls and lower between her folds. She moved her knee to allow her hand better access._

_Her gaze still didn't leave hers as she carefully leaned down to kiss her exposed abdomen just above the bellybutton. Her fingers began going back and forth slowly between her womanly folds, as her lips kissed her skin, back up the way her hand had gone down earlier. She smirked against the skin as she felt Miranda's muscles beneath her mouth contract. Oh, she was_ reacting _… The initial nerves were flooding away now, dispersing through her veins with her bloodstream and entirely evaporating. They were being replaced by the passion she felt rushing in her system. They were subdued by lingering feelings of want and longing and lust, and maybe_ even _love, too._

_Her nose trailed the bottom of Miranda's breast, and her fingertips stilled just above her entrance in question. Miranda arched up hard as Andy's pink lips found a nipple, sucking it strongly into her mouth. Miranda had seemed to like her chest being kissed a little earlier and when Andy had trailed her tongue around the stiff, aroused flesh. Andy's experiment seemed to work, because as she sucked harder, a long lusty moan of delight left the older woman's throat –– it was undoubtedly from great pleasure, no confusion this time._

_"Inside me…" Miranda whispered in a tone that bordered on begging. It took the brunette by surprise, and Miranda's nipple popped from her mouth as she observed Miranda closely. Her eyes now seemed to have misted over as well and a smirk took over the younger woman's face. Of course, Miranda would never_ actually _beg, but she doubted if she could ever get any more from her. She teasingly tested the entrance of the Editor-in-Chief with the slick tip of her forefinger and felt her squeeze down on it. Her pelvis gently shifted, as if she begged for more, and Andy slowly obliged, willing her forefinger and middle finger farther inside her. She could feel her clamp down again on her fingers, urging her to move and give her more. Miranda's eyes fluttered shut as she retracted her fingers and shoved them back in fast, a moan inadvertently leaving her throat again. She repeated the movement, reveling in the reactions she got from the older woman: the way in which her inner walls clamped down on her fingers, the way in which her pelvis arched and how lusty moans and sighs left her mouth. She could see her own fingers clench tighter onto the sheets as she thrust, too._

Andy sighed, and as she blinked her eyes, the brunette's gaze fell upon a piece of paper on the left-hand side night table. How was it she hadn't seen this there before? The small note was definitely written by Miranda Priestly's hand, telling her to feel free to use her shower and whatever she needed or thought she could use there, before leaving. If she could only just pull the door closed behind her, and she would appreciate it if she could gather every one of her belongings as she did, too. She would call her later that same day…

She crumpled the piece of paper in her hand. All right, if that's what the Dragon Lady wanted, then she would do as she had asked for now. Andy wouldn't even take the time to shower _––_ after all, it was a Saturday… when she wasn't expected to be anywhere. No, she would gather her clothes and disappear, and when Miranda called, she would tell her a piece of her mind. Maybe by then she would be better able to suppress the great urge to cry that she felt at the moment. Because she couldn't really deny the fact that there was still hurt and pain there aside from the disappointment and the anger. How could there not be? Only a heartless person would be able not to feel any of all that at all.

She stood and slowly dropped the sheet. _Right. Clothes._ Where the fuck had she _––_ or rather Miranda _––_ left them all the night before when they had made their way from her office to the bedroom? By the time that they got there together, they had been virtually naked, and she thought she had already encountered some articles of clothing when going down to look for Miranda, only to be met with a deserted house again.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!

* * *

**Author's Note:** If you like it, then you should leave a good review on it! ;)


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43 (Saturday, May 19, 2007) 

She had doubted for a moment when she actually stepped from Miranda Priestly's huge townhouse, after having let the door fall shut behind her like the Dragon Lady had demanded in her little note. She had wondered where to go for a moment on a Saturday morning before ten-thirty. She had pondered about going to Central Park and just having a good cry there, but she hadn't. She had thought about just sitting in a café with a good cup of coffee and reading a good book, but she didn't have one with her there and wasn't interested in buying a new one when she still had many lying at home she really wanted to read… and had told herself to do so ages ago… but she had never actually got around to it. She wondered where the times had gone now when she and Lily would often huddle together at a table in a bar with coffee, reading lecture notes and books, only to close them at one point and look at the other winningly, after which both would drop off their stuff at home and go party. It sometimes made her feel old to remember. She was quite certain that Lily was still that girl at age twenty-five, reading other books with someone else… There was no one in her life with whom she could ever imagine doing that with anymore, and it made her feel lonely when she considered it.

So, she had begun to walk without purpose and ended up in town again, not even feeling the pain in her feet that usually ensued when she had walked in high heels for longer than half an hour. Right now, she couldn't even really feel the blisters that were slowly but surely forming under the soles of her feet. No matter how expensive the shoes were, no matter how many times she had worn them before, Andy just couldn't seem to find a single pair of heels that didn't leave her feet painful and blistered after a little walking.

It really felt like what had happened the night before had left her numb now, as if Andy had felt so much… too much… that it had finally rendered her frozen. Or maybe it was that very mental but very cold shower she had had, finding the other side of the bed unoccupied. She didn't even feel or care much about the rain splashing on and all around her. Everyone was hurrying to get some cover if they hadn't actually found any already, while she just continued walking, the thought of taking an expensive cab or the subway –– or even finding cover like the others did or walking a little faster –– never crossed her occupied mind. She just let the rain drench her hair and clothes, her mind lost in memories of the night before. It had all been truly amazing and so _real_. She had been apprehensive at first of making love to a woman but even with Miranda Priestly –– maybe _because of_ Miranda Priestly –– it had flowed effortlessly as if she hadn't done anything else in her entire life other than that. It had all come naturally in the end, as if she was riding along the crest of a wave… like a boat in the ocean, up and down again…

_Pure willpower kept her from coming hard right there and then. She most likely would have if she'd looked down to see what Miranda Priestly was doing to her currently. No other encounter of oral sex had ever made her feel so damn good! The mere realization she was sitting over Miranda Priestly's face, that the Dragon Lady herself had allowed her to do so, had urged her to sit like that and hold onto the headboard before quietly lowering herself…_ Fuck _._

_As Miranda's tongue slipped down one fold slowly, her lips then sucking the neglected one, Andy felt and even saw fireworks going off in her head. She was now insanely unsteady on her knees; they were shivering like mad already, and she feared her legs might soon give way only for her to crash down on Miranda's nose, undoubtedly breaking it in the process. The fact that pleasure was overtaking her so entirely was truly the only thing that stopped her mind from wondering how many women she had gone down on like that already… She would have wondered how many she had ever allowed to be on top instead of her. Doing so, she gave up a measure of power, which was huge for Miranda Priestly. That thought did slip into her mind; the fact that Miranda had let her, Andy Sachs, be on top and thus guide. She couldn't fool herself, though. Miranda was still leading their sordid dance from below, telling her where to go, when and how fast. She was still controlling every movement, but she had given Andy the best position for the ride at least._

_Andy's fingers tightened around the edge of the headboard as Miranda's tongue dipped inside her before already moving on and licking between her folds. A gasped keening escaped her as Miranda's thumb plunged inside just before she sucked Andy's clit into her mouth, her tongue tapping on it and scratching gently across the surface experimentally. Miranda's thumb was replaced by her fore- and middle fingers, which steadily moved back and forth nearly at once. Andy began to change her mind about not liking oral sex. She had just never been orally fucked by someone so perfectly qualified, it seemed. In fact, oral sex could be very nice… rather exhilarating… quite satisfying and all… Then again, was there anything at all Miranda Priestly wasn't good at? Miranda Priestly was perfect… more than perfect between the sheets. It definitely would have won a Pullitzer prize if it was a piece of scientific writing… or even worthy a Noble prize in her books!_

_With Miranda's lithe fingers moving like that inside her, she couldn't deny the uncontrollable urge to move back and forth along with her and ride her face anymore. "Ah! Miranda!" she managed as she felt how the older woman's teeth grazed her sensitive and swollen nub. Biting down on her lower lip was the only way to swallow a ramble of horny curses. She could feel her pleasure intensify, feel it fluttering fast in her stomach. She knew what it meant, but she had never felt it that way before. She had never experienced a race to orgasm like that. Mostly, when others had done this act, there just hadn't been any climbing or any race at all to be considered._

_"Oh! Oh!"_

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44 

Despite the fact that Miranda Priestly could change her mind like the wind changed direction, she usually did that what she said she would –– especially in regard to calling. Miranda Priestly had never _not_ called when she said she would, nor when she hadn't said that she would. Miranda Priestly was really good at calling everyone at the most inopportune of times, after all.

Still, Andy Sachs was a little surprised after all when the Dragon Lady actually called her about two PM. Somehow, she hadn't expected her to anymore… like she hadn't expected her to contact her after that kiss anymore either, and yet she had and something good had come from it… or maybe not in the end. Maybe it had made the whole situation ten times worse only. All those thoughts were going through her mind when she looked upon the screen and recognized the number right away. She just stared at it until the call ended and a message popped in, saying that she had missed a call from that particular number. For a long moment, she wondered if she should return the call, but she didn't really feel like hearing whatever Miranda had to say now. A part of her wanted to shout at her and tell her what a bitch she was. She didn't want to make a scene here, though. She didn't want to let her know how much it had all got to her. It would undoubtedly please her only. So, she ended up deleting the notification, throwing the phone aside and continuing to read through the articles that had been sent in from Erica and Robert. Fine, it wasn't going well, but it was still going… after a fashion anyway.

She should have expected her to call back right away without even leaving a voice message, though. That was typically Miranda… This time, she actually terminated the call at once, went into her settings and just blocked the number. _There, done calling._ She couldn't do this right now at all. She looked at her now silent cell phone and suddenly laughed. She was so done with all these conflicting emotions. Anyone would believe she was actually a raging lunatic, a schizophrenic with moods swinging violently, from one side to the next. Anyone who knew what Andy was thinking at that moment would have sent her to a mental institution, and it really had to stop right now. Miranda Priestly had walked into her mediocre life and turned it fully upside down. Andy had changed from who she had been when she first set foot into Elias-Clark, and now, even after she had stopped working there, the frigid woman had _apparently_ kept following her with every damn turn.

It had been a tad… _unfortunate_ how she had had to find that she could fall for women as well as men through Miranda Priestly. She didn't truly know how or why, but love or attraction just weren't the sort of emotions you could control, sadly enough. Miranda Priestly was a conflicting woman, too. Being with her in any way, being a part of her busy life in any way, was bound to be conflicting and very intricate. Maybe she was a weak act, but she was slowly and surely going down under this shit.

She stopped laughing when she noticed her screen immediately light up once more, now revealing an unknown number. Miranda had undoubtedly realized that Andy had blocked her and borrowed the cell phone of someone unfortunate enough to be nearby. Somehow, she had no doubt this in fact was Miranda. She reached for her cell, turning it off without any hesitation at all. There was no one who could possibly need her on a rainy Saturday afternoon in May like this. If it was her folks or her brother or even someone else of Andy's family regarding a matter of urgency, they knew how to find her when absolutely necessary.

She forced herself to go back to her reading… She had to regularly force herself not to let her mind trail to Miranda Priestly –– which was surprisingly hard. After all, she had woken in Miranda Priestly's bed, after having… had sex with her. It couldn't be called 'love-making'. It might have been called that when caught in the moment last night, but now in this context it definitely could not, having been kicked from the lovely townhouse after Miranda had already left there. Nonetheless, time passed in a way. It passed _slowly_ , but it did. She eventually closed her files to return to those later and watched a comedy online. That made time pass slightly faster –– not _much_ , but still.

When she heard a knock upon her door near the end of it, she was actually a tad annoyed. However, she clicked 'pause', lifting herself upright from her lying position, slipping from the bed and padding over on bare feet to the locked door. _Now what?_ Andy thought as she went. Who would be visiting her now? It sometimes happened that neighbors came by to tell her about her hallway carpet having been kicked aside again. A middle-aged woman on her floor had two toddler boys who seemed to like victimizing her particular stretch of carpet. She knew that if it was something like that, which it undoubtedly was, it was only of kindness. Still, Andy didn't much appreciate being interrupted right now. She just wanted to go back to the film that had at least taken her mind off things for a little while. Andy's hand moved to the door handle as she took a breath, convincing herself not to bite off the head of the kind neighbor that was undoubtedly on the other side.

Convinced that she was as calm and irritation-free as she could possibly get herself at that moment, she exhaled slowly and threw the door open. The first thing she noticed was that the carpet was where it was supposed to be still, held down by a pair of feet in very expensive, very high-heeled shoes. Her head shot up… and she looked straight into the face of Miranda Fucking Priestly. "Miranda!" she exclaimed, utterly shocked, reaching for the frame of the open door and clawing onto it, trying to take control over her body's reaction at seeing the Dragon Lady right there. Miranda Priestly was in the doorway of her shabby studio. How had she even got here? How had she even got through the entrance door below? Mostly, "What are you doing here?"

"Yes, well. When you block my number, then turn off your phone entirely and I want to talk to you, you don't leave me another choice, do you, _Ahn-dre-ah_?"

There was that clipped and accented tone again. She looked rather furious, too. Well, at least Andy's choice was made for her now, even if it was by Miranda Priestly. If only she still remembered the words that she had wanted to say that morning upon realizing that she had left her with only a note on the bedside table. However, no word left her mouth at all. Utter shock seemed to have taken hold of her voice chords and strung them in a very tight knot. They just looked at each other for a moment, Miranda with a challenging gaze and Andy still with a rather shocked one. That moment was enough for her to feel less like she was going to faint any moment, though, and to gather some of her wits. The events of that morning flooded back into her mind's eye easily. The reasons why she had sat curled up with a stupid movie she never would have looked at otherwise. "What are you doing here?" she repeated. "If you have come to tell me that yesterday was a big mistake, that it was just one night and that's all that it was, then save your breath. You leaving me there with only a heartless note spoke enough for you already."

"I'm _not_ here to say that at all. If you would listen to what I've got to say like in the beginning, when you first began to work at _Runway_ and were still scared of me…" That left Andy absolutely speechless, gazing at the other woman. Oh, she was still scared of her… at least, she thought she was. When she didn't speak at all, dumbfounded into silence by the Dragon Lady once again, Miranda continued herself, "Let's say you have asked me in, shall we? I cancelled a meeting with the girls' father to be here now, and I refuse to have this sort of conversation in your hallway. Actually, I would have refused to have it here at all, but you didn't leave me another choice, now did you?" Miranda spoke and stalked further into Andy's shabby home, Andy just numbly moving aside to let her in as she made intentions clear, letting the door close behind her before following her lead to the couch. Miranda didn't sit down, though, so nor did she.

Miranda turned to her curiously and waited for her to speak, obviously so. When she finally came to, having absorbed the information, she just gasped wordlessly a couple of times like a fish above water, before she finally managed, "You cancelled a meeting with the girls' father?"

The Editor-in-Chief of _Runway_ magazine nodded once after a couple of seconds to confirm. "I have," she said. No more details were offered, but then Andy hadn't really expected any either. After all, she had nothing at all to do with Cassidy and Caroline's childhoods. That was not her task in any way. "You seem exceptionally quiet. I would have expected you to have a lot of questions."

"You have no idea," Andy said bitterly. "Yet, at the same time it is crystal clear. If you aren't here to tell me that it was a big mistake and whatever, then why throw me on the street like garbage this morning?"

Miranda smiled, but not wickedly… not quite. Then she sat down on the couch, eyeing Andy with expectance, but she stubbornly refused to follow Miranda in sitting down, either beside or opposite her. "Saturday afternoons, my housemaid usually comes to clean, and I assumed you wouldn't have liked to run straight into her and cause a great deal of awkwardness for both."

"Why didn't you tell me that earlier?"

"When? In the middle of what we were doing last night?"

"I'm not sure, Miranda, but it…" Andy exclaimed, much louder than she would have spoken otherwise. "It just feels like crap when you awake in an unfamiliar house, only to find a letter saying that I'm expected to leave as soon as humanly possible… as if I was garbage, like whatever happened, between us, doesn't matter as long as I'm gone already!"

"Do you really believe that I jump into bed with anyone, like a teenager who still hasn't managed to control their desires?" Miranda spoke in a snappy tone that cut right through morrow and bone, obviously challenging Andy, seemingly wanting to kill her with just her gaze alone. Still, Andy wasn't very impressed; anger flaring once more again and her heartache speaking for her, confirming that Andy Sachs was not afraid of Miranda Fucking Priestly –– or at least not anymore.

"Well, that's sure what it looks like right now!"

"You're mistaken. Now, will you sit down –– you're making me bloody nervous!" Miranda snapped back in her British accent.

Andy only noticed then that she had begun to pace as she did sometimes when she was nervous, when she was pushed into a corner, and confused and conflicted… just like she felt right then. It worked, though; helped to relaxed her a tad. Andy finally stopped and sat down slowly, turning to Miranda and trying to suppress her nerves and the urge to wring her hands. "I'm mistaken?" she finally asked when the long silence began to get painful.

Miranda smiled lightly for just a second, the corners of her mouth lifting minimally before dropping again. Still, Andy noticed. "I believe I made that obvious already," Miranda responded in a tone that was so unlike the one before: business-like again and a far cry from what she had heard the night before, but still –– _almost_ sociable, compared to her usual behavior at least.

"I don't know what you want, Miranda. I don't know what I, myself, want or expect now, but I don't want to be set on the street like garbage."

"I hadn't planned on last night," Miranda said. "I'll admit that when morning dawned and the exhilaration and all else we both felt had worn off, I began to doubt whether it was something to regret like so many other mistakes I have made in my career and adult personal life."

"Do you believe it was?" Andy carefully asked.

Miranda eyed her cautiously for a second, before she slowly shook her head. "Nuh-uh," she said. "You may believe of me all that you like, Ahn-dre-ah, but I am not the kind of person who would sleep with someone for just one night and throw them on the street immediately after… someone who doesn't want more –– which leads me to conclude we're going about it all a little backwards. Usually, you become a couple with someone before ending up in their bedroom or dragging them into yours."

"Hold on." Andy eyed her in disbelief. Had she heard all this right? "Are you telling me you want to have a _relationship_ with me, or is this a cruel joke where you're going to tell me any second that I've let myself be fooled?" Andy asked and shook her head, unsure of what to believe anymore –– it seemed _too_ good to be true. Surely she wasn't actually understanding her correctly?

Miranda quirked her eyebrows at the question in a way that said her answer should have been obvious from what she had said earlier. "I've cancelled a meeting with the twins' father to come here in your poor excuse of a home. That should already tell you something."

A large goofy smile spread across Andy's lips. There was no room left for misinterpreting this time. She knew this was the most confirmation that Miranda would ever give her, but that was perfectly all right. Everything… was all right and perfect. Miranda Priestly, the woman who stood far above her, had finally succumbed to Andy's charms the night before, and had come to tell her that she wanted to be with her in _that way_. Andy bounced from her seat on the couch and launched herself awkwardly at the other woman, wrapping her arms around her neck and not caring at all about what Miranda thought or possibly would say. She wasn't really happy, of course, hopelessly trying to pull Andy off of her or at least _trying_ to loosen her grip as she opened her mouth to argue, but Andy was faster, pulling back enough to let her lips meet Miranda's and shut off whatever it was that she had wanted to say with a kiss –– a rather bold move, but no one could expect her _not_ to be boldnow. Miranda's stark honesty had promptly ended so many recurring, conflicting thoughts which had weighed upon her like a ton, and the happiness of getting what she had always thought she could never get combined with that, made her the happiest woman in New York at that very moment… who didn't even need air anymore. Her lover, however, did, and she chose the moment Andy's hand found her hip and her weight began to push her back against the armrest of the old couch as the moment to carefully pull away, panting. "Stop," she said and slowly lifted her hand between them. Andy just looked at her awkwardly as she began to sit up once more and continued, "I cancelled one meeting to be here now, but I still have some others. Roy is waiting, and if we continue now, he'll be waiting for a long time to come."

A part of Andy just wanted to tell her to loosen up now, but another understood well enough. "Okay," she said. "I did enjoy last night, though."

"I did, too," Miranda said as she stood, and Andy did so, too. Miranda seemed to consider for a moment then suddenly suggested, "What if you come by tomorrow night and have dinner with the girls and I, about seven? They'll return from their father's in the afternoon, and then you can meet them."

Andy had forgotten –– she had utterly and totally forgotten about how the girls might react at the news. She could feel her happiness deflate slightly and looked down, trying to hide the fears that were surely easily read in her eyes. Especially for someone as perceptible as the fashionista Miranda Priestly. Those two girls had all power to truly ruin everything for them both, _everything_ she had just unconsciously hoped for, namely Miranda confirming in her own way that she wanted to _be_ with her. If they didn't like her that way, then she knew that Miranda would listen to them, no doubt about it.

Miranda appeared to see right through her, though… as she did with so many other situations and persons. "I doubt that they'll make a fuss about it," she said upon seeing Andy cast her gaze down, "although I'm not planning to tell them just yet. I would like to allow them both to get used to you for a little while, unlike how it happened with my ex-husbands."

Andy was surprised to hear her talk that way: 'would like' instead of 'want'. That must be a first… and hopefully not the last. She wondered if she was going to get to know any more 'secrets' and learn some more benefits of being part of Miranda Priestly's personal life…

"So does that mean I'll be spending lots of time with you and will finally get the chance to see some of your soft spots?"

"Well, I suggest you watch and see whether that is in the cards for you."

"I definitely will…" Andy teased back.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45 (Sunday, May 20, 2007)

When she arrived at the townhouse of Miranda Priestly a little before seven, Miranda's personal cook –– one she had never seen before then –– was just leaving there. She smiled at the elderly woman as she offered a warm but not that sincere smile and held the door for her. Andy slipped in and let the door fall shut behind her, only to be immediately met by Miranda's voice resounding from the kitchen, telling her to leave her belongings on the peg by the door and come join her and the girls in the kitchen.

The girls politely greeted her upon entering and indicated she should sit right beside their mother, opposite the both of them. She should have guessed that they would not stay nice and all polite for long… After all, they had Miranda's genes –– especially Caroline, it seemed. _Oh, boy._

Andy had just lifted her fork to begin eating from the delicious smelling lasagne after she had served the desired quantity from the large dish between them onto everyone's plates first, when the first question was shot at her, unsurprisingly from Caroline. In between two bites of lasagne –– she and her sister hadn't waited for their mother or Andy before getting to it –– she asked, "Mum said you would never work for _Runway_ again after you left her in Paris, and Mum never changes her mind. So what are you doing here then?"

Andy's fork remained suspended in mid-air as she turned her gaze to Miranda questioningly, but she didn't look at her at all; instead, she just cut a small piece of lasagne and lifted it to her mouth to eat. So, Miranda had told them that she had walked off on her in Paris but had not offered a reason for her being there that afternoon. Their behavior definitely showed that they had expected she was going to be there, though… and thus she wondered whether the cheekiness had come from the daughters, deliberately not asking their mother but waiting until Andy arrived so that she could answer instead.

"Your mother's new assistant fell ill, and I filled in for her."

"You mean, _Francesca_?" Cassidy asked. As Andy slowly nodded at them in confirmation, both girls immediately burst into peals of laughter. Andy glanced fleetingly at their mother once more in confusion, but Miranda didn't seem at all surprised by their behavior. Why was that so funny? Was it because the assistant's name sounded foreign or because of something else?

"We tricked her once, too," Caroline finally said, as the giggles of the twin girls eventually died away enough so that they could speak again. "We made her leave The Book on the table in our living room. In the end, Mum had to call her and ask where she had left it, because she couldn't find it anywhere."

That sounded rather familiar… "So, uh," Andy asked after having swallowed her first bite of lasagne –– it tasted absolutely delicious indeed! –– having taken the chance to begin eating when the girls had been lost in giggles. "Do you trick all new assistants of your Mum then?"

"Of course!" Cassidy, who was seated directly opposite her, replied, as if that was the most normal thing to do and the possibility of them _not_ doing it was as non-existent as Andy's understanding of it in that moment. Who knew, in their minds maybe it was. "Hey, Caro, do you remember the time where we tricked the blonde one into entering the bathroom while Mum was sitting in the bath? We totally convinced her that was Mum's downstairs office!"

"Enough, girls," Miranda intervened in a calm but sure tone. Andy's gaze briefly redirected to her, and she saw the blush that had begun to rise upon her cheeks –– slightly cute, actually. "You two are absolutely incorrigible. I wonder when you will learn that such behavior is immature and not at all very ladylike in any way."

"Yes, Mum," they chanted at the same time, looking down into their plates and continuing to eat in silence. They only opened their mouths again when they had both finished and Cassidy asked if they could have some ice cream for dessert. Their answer was a nod of confirmation from Miranda, followed by Cassidy getting up from the table and going to retrieve two little pots from the large American fridge, one for her sister and one for herself –– Ben and Jerry's Milk & Cookies. Andy wondered how very long it had been since she had had one of _those_. By the time they had finished, Andy and Miranda had eaten the rest of their lasagne, too. Really, it was not to be believed how fast those girls ate, gobbling everything down though obviously doing their respective best to do it politely.

"Mommy still has to finish some work in her office for a little while, so maybe if you ask nicely, Andréa can help you with your homework until I'm done."

Andy shot a look of surprise at Miranda, her mouth hanging open slightly. She was being invited to stay for more than dinner, and she immediately had her hopes up that she would be able to do more than help with the twins' homework, too –– she really wouldn't mind another roll in the sheets. A goofy smile spread across her face, and then she remembered the girls and turned to them.

"Andy, will you help with our homework?" Cassidy asked. "Please?" she added, upon seeing the look upon her mother's face.

"Sure!" she replied. "Lead the way then."

At once, the young girls stood, gathering their plates, and cutlery and glasses, like they presumably had been taught, and carried them over to the dishwasher, throwing the cardboard pots and plastic spoons from their ice creams in the trashcan. Andy thus stood as well, imitating them. She smiled one last time at Miranda –– who unsurprisingly didn't smile back –– before following the girls into the hallway and up the stairs to their shared study.

She was very grateful that they made it through the twins' English homework without any more questions, and in fact time flowed nearly effortlessly without any awkwardness at all between them. Andy was very happy about this, especially if the plan was for Andy and their mother to become more intimate; it would be beneficial if the girls at least tolerated her. Andy didn't believe they _liked_ her quite yet, but maybe the questions at the beginning of their dinner had been innocent. After all, if maybe Miranda hadn't offered any information about her visit, then surely it was only normal that they asked those questions?

"We're going to go swimming with school tomorrow afternoon. We still have to pack up our swim bags," Caroline told her as the twins closed their books and stood to gather their stuff in their schoolbags.

"That's nice," Andy said, getting to her feet as well and pushing her chair back under the (presumably) antique wooden desk at which the twin girls had done their homework, leaning against it slightly as she watched them slowly clear their stuff away –– it was obvious that they would rather have left their things lying about but they didn't want to have a discussion with Miranda, which would ensue if they did for sure. "I actually really like swimming. I like sports in general –– volleyball and soccer are definitely two of my favorites, and I'm not too bad at them either."

"You should teach us sometime!" Caroline said. "We suck at soccer!"

"Yeah!" Cassidy agreed.

Andy chuckled at the exclamation. This was going far better than she ever had expected and perhaps better than it should. It didn't even seem realistic how they were all getting along, but she was determined to enjoy it for as long she could. No doubt before long, they would be little monsters again. "Maybe I will when I'm not working," she answered.

"Always working," Caroline grumbled, and her face became sour once again –– the look Andy had seen so often. She mentally kicked herself for having hoped for their positivity to last. "You know, Wednesday's our birthday, but because Mum is working then and can't take time off or so she says, our party has to be on Saturday!"

"Well, uh, I'm sure that when your mother says that she can't take any time off then it is only the truth," Andy carefully said, not wanting to speak against Miranda but not wanting her daughters to become even more pissed than they seemingly already were. She bit down on her lip as Caroline smacked her book closed in great anger.

"You're always going to be on her side, aren't you?"

Andy didn't quite know how to answer that, knowing that whatever she said would anger one party. Thus, she remained… quiet.

"Are you coming to our birthday party, Andy?" Cassidy asked as she stuffed her pencil case further into her schoolbag and looked up at her curiously.

"Well, uh, I'm not sure," she said. "I don't know if your mom really would be okay with that…"

Caroline stopped doing whatever that she was doing and eyed Andy carefully –– it was slightly creepy how thoroughly she seemed to judge her, as if she was looking deep within her. It made the woman feel rather uncomfortable. "She invited you for dinner, and she only seldom does that. For instance, Mom only announced Stephen had proposed to her the first time he came here for dinner."

Cassidy nodded. "They had sort of already organized it all before she even told us. Two weeks later and they were married."

"Do you feel like your mom forgot about you?" Andy asked, her gaze flickering to the door to ensure the other woman wasn't near. It was a purely innocent question, though. She just wanted to show the girls that she was interested in what they thought and wanted to understand how they felt. Maybe it could help her, when the situation got more intense between her and Miranda as well.

"I'm not sure," Cassidy answered honestly. "She asked our opinion about him and all, and said that if we didn't like him, she wouldn't marry him, but still..."

"We didn't see him enough to ever really dislike him," Caroline stated, crossing her arms irritably.

Andy suppressed the sudden urge to ask the girls' thoughts on their mother getting married to _her_. She had never even considered marriage before. With Nate, she had thought sometimes that he could be the man she would end up being married to and have kids with. How mistaken she had been in the end. Not that same-sex marriage was quite allowed in New York just yet. Marriage wasn't really a _must_ , though, and they still had a very long way to go. They had both established that they wanted more than just sex, but that had basically been it…

"Time for bed now, girls. Nine-thirty and you have to be awake early. Thank Andréa for helping you with your homework and say goodnight to her."

All three, Andy and the twin girls, turned to the doorway as Miranda's voice reached their ears. They hadn't heard or seen her arrive at all.

"Mum, we still have to pack our swimming bags for tomorrow!" Cassidy argued.

"You can do it in the morning," Miranda said, shaking her head at Cassidy's claim. "It will only take a couple minutes. I do know you both a little too well to be sure you will be up much later than you should if I let you do it now… and you know Mommy doesn't like tired, grumpy burgers in the morning."

"Okay," Cassidy said. Caroline merely took up her very pissed-off expression again.

They both muttered a thank you and a good night to Andy, and then to their mum, before leaving the room presumably to go to their bedrooms and get ready for bed. Andy had never been allowed to stay up that late when she had been their age! What were they nagging about? No 'I love you's were exchanged as they had been when Andy was a little girl, but she wasn't really surprised to find this. Miranda obviously loved her daughters, but she didn't show it as most folks did. She never really seemed to put it in words at any point.

Miranda's gaze fell upon hers. "I guess I better go home as well then," Andy said in a disappointed tone, pushing away from the desk. She wouldn't have minded a repeat of last Friday.

Miranda nodded at her and turned to leave. Andy following her further down the stairs to the entrance hall, listening to what she was saying. "I won't be home tomorrow, so don't expect a call from me then, but I will call you if my Tuesday night happens to be free. Irv wasn't sure if he could make it to our meeting yet, and it can't go through without him."

"Okay," Andy said, taking a hold of her coat and bag and donning them as Miranda waited patiently for once at the bottom of the stairs. When Andy was fully dressed to meet the cold New York evening air, Miranda reached to open the door. It was a nice surprise –– not something Andy would have expected her to do. She stepped into the chill and turned back to face the Editor-in-Chief. She looked as beautiful as always, and she thoroughly regretted the girls being home. Otherwise, she would have assuredly pinned her against a wall somewhere and fucked her again. She thought she had her ways to convince the other woman of letting her do so…

"Goodnight," Miranda offered, moving to close the door already.

"Wait!" Andy said, and it halted halfway.

Miranda's eyebrow quirked at the sudden cry coming from the younger woman. "What now? Do you want a goodnight kiss?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Andy replied cheekily, not waiting for the Dragon Lady to agree or disagree, but just leaning in to let her lips touch the older woman's for a brief second before pulling back, wishing her a very goodnight and turning away, to carefully walk down the steps to the curb with a wide smile upon her face. Andy could hear Miranda muttering before the door fell shut. Well, that could have gone worse! That could have gone so much worse than it actually had. She hadn't really fought with either Miranda or her daughters. In fact, Cassidy and Caroline didn't even seem to dislike her as far as she could tell yet, and Miranda had come by the day before to her shabby studio to tell her that she wanted more than sex for one night; a _more_ Andy wanted more than anything herself if she were honest about it. Life could not be any better! Of course, in her equation she had forgotten that her folks didn't know anything about it all just yet… _Oh dear. Oh, oh._

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46 (Tuesday, May 22, 2007) 

When the clock ticked past five in the afternoon, Andy Sachs had secretly given up her hope on expecting a call from Miranda. True, she hadn't stated a possible time, but this wasn't funny anymore –– her working day had come to an end by then for goodness' sake! She sighed as she stretched for her cell phone lying a tad further away on her desk –– her mom had texted her half an hour earlier, and she had pushed it away when she realized it wasn't who she wanted to hear from soon. It had all been too easy, hadn't it? Andy Sachs scolded herself. What had she really expected, for Miranda to become this entirely dependable partner, with loving texts every now and then? She shook her head. The happiness she had felt earlier, which hadn't gone unnoticed by her colleagues or John, had decreased a great deal. Then, just as the door to her glass office closed behind her, she could hear her ringtone. Her heart jumped at the sound, and immediately she sank down to the floor, unzipped her bag again and searched for the mobile device that was lost within the depths. She found it easily, and with her heart pounding, she pressed 'Accept' without even looking at the screen. "Hello?" she said, sounding more breathless than she actually should.

"You really should unblock my number, Ahn-dre-ah."

_Fuck._ "Oh, hi!" she greeted. "I'm sorry. I totally forgot."

"Well, Irv didn't make it to the meeting after all… as I already feared. I advanced my later meeting, and thus I'll be home earlier than I anticipated. We'll have dinner at seven. Can you make it?" Miranda sounded in Andy's left ear in her unwavering business-like tone. She really should mention that to Miranda. If they were going to be in a relationship with each other, then she didn't want to be talked to like she was an assistant again. Maybe she wasn't free to talk candidly, Andy momentarily considered. She remembered the few times she had caught her on the phone with Stephen when they had still been married, and she hadn't really changed her tone of voice then either. Then again, by that point their short marriage hadn't been so great any longer already; it had already begun to dwindle down into nothingness…

"I, uh…"

"Andréa, it is a simple yes or no, so I know whether to inform Mrs. Tapioca that we're having a guest or not. I do know the girls would like if you could join us for dinner again."

"They would?" Andy asked incredulously as she finally stepped into the lift with a handful of other people, mostly from higher floors, who were making their home as well. She smiled at them briefly, then refocusing on the conversation quite literally at hand. "You actually reckon they wouldn't mind if I came over for dinner again? Wouldn't it be 'too much'?" she wondered; she bore in mind the brief conversation she had had with the girls about Stephen and how fast all of that had happened in their eyes –– too fast, it seemed.

"I wouldn't say that. They seem to like you."

"If so, I'd like it to stay that way…" Andy mumbled, too quiet for the woman on the other end to hear her. "Seven's fine," she said a little louder as she stepped from the elevator and made her way to the exit of the tall company building. Well, two hours was enough time to go home first and shower, and change into something nicer-looking, before setting off to Miranda's townhouse. This time she feared it would mean money for a cab, though.

That's how it all happened.

By the time she got to Miranda's twin girls were sitting at the kitchen table already, while Miranda was serving casserole onto their plates with a large spoon, her daughters silently fighting over who would get their food first. Mrs. Tapioca, Miranda Priestly's personal cook, seemed to have left already. The door had been left on the latch so that she could come in without needing to knock. It was a thoughtful idea.

"Come on, Mum, you have to give us a hint!" Caroline said as she roughly set her full plate down and tucked in just like her twin sister, as Miranda quietly spooned a helping onto Andy's plate, too. She noticed both twins looking expectantly at their mother, with huge, puppy dog eyes.

"Is it a Chihuahua, Mum?"

"Yeah, then we can call it Tinkerbell!"

"Girls, we've already got a dog, in case you have forgotten… How would Patricia feel if we got another one? Plus, have you thought about how easy it would be for her to just ravage such a small animal?" Miranda enquired, then blew on her casserole. "Mummy doesn't like anything that's not of its regular size, and that includes a Chihuahua. I've seen rats bigger than some of those creatures."

Both Cassidy and Caroline groaned at the answer they appeared to have heard lots of times before –– it was somehow obvious that this was a much fought-over discussion…

"As long as you won't make us wait until Saturday," Cassidy said.

Miranda remained perfectly quiet at that, the look upon her stoic face not giving anything away, either affirmative or negative. Andy could swear she saw a little smile, though. "Mum, come on!" Caroline cried as she noticed this as well.

"You girls are way too impatient…" Miranda remarked in a sure tone, treating both of her daughters to a glare with her icy blue eyes, convincing them to drop it already… This seemed to be a conversation that had regularly cropped up, Andy thought.

The girls did drop the subject of their birthdays and possible gifts, as well as everything else. They remained quiet for the rest of their dinner, and the adults kept their mouths shut, too, everyone just thinking their own thoughts –– Cassidy's and Caroline's went undoubtedly in the same direction, though. Andy was certain of it.

When both twins had finished their plates, Cassidy turned to their mother. "Can we leave the table please? Can Andy come and help us with our homework again?"

"I'm afraid that Andréa and Mummy still have to speak about some matters, Bobbsey –– adult matters," she added as she saw Caroline frown. "You go ahead already. I'll come say goodnight when it is time for bed. And no, we aren't going to talk about your birthday party…" Miranda added when she saw the girls' mouths open at the same time, presumably to ask the question she already answered before they had the chance to pose it. This time, Andy was sure she had seen a small smile indeed!

The adults watched as both girls stood and cleared their plates and cutlery away as seemed to be their custom. Caroline only once looked back rather grumpily before they disappeared from the kitchen, followed by the sound of two pairs of feet on the stairs as they made their way to their study to do their homework.

"Elephants," Miranda muttered as the sound of the stomping feet on the stairs stopped –– they must have made it to their room.

When it did, Andy turned to the other woman with a little smile. "Talk, huh?" she said.

Miranda stood but raised her hand at once for Andy to remain seated. She turned to a cabinet above the sink to retrieve a pair of wine glasses, then went to the fridge to get a cold bottle as she replied. "I thought it would be nice…" she began, "if maybe we had a little time together now, too… We haven't had a lot really."

"I like spending time with them," Andy answered as Miranda set the glasses down and reached for a drawer to find a bottle opener.

"They do, too, I believe," Miranda answered. "I heard part of your conversation with them. They usually aren't as open with me, nor anyone else I ever knew of…" she said, a sigh eschewing from her lips as the cork popped up from the bottle and Miranda tilted it over both their glasses to fill them almost to the brim –– they would have to raise them carefully in order not to spill. Miranda Priestly would undoubtedly be able to, but Andy wasn't so sure about herself. She was, after all, a very clumsy sort of person.

"You're worried about what their thoughts will be of you and me… of, of…"

"Us," Miranda finished, but somehow, despite the fact that Andy's own worry was piqued by seeing the emotion upon Miranda Priestly's face, she could feel something nice flutter inside her at the mere mention of that two letter word. "I don't want them to like you because _I_ do. I don't want them to feel obligated in any way," she added.

Andy's heart swelled at hearing her say she liked her in a way –– it was most likely the most sensitive Miranda ever got, she suspected, and that fact made it all the more special. She was not an entirely different person here, but Andy was grateful she had seen shreds of Miranda Priestly, the mother. It showed that she was at least human and trying to be a good mother.

"I know," Andy said. "Me neither."

It remained very quiet between them for a little while, in which both women sipped from their glasses of red wine –– truth to be told, Andy preferred white, but she wasn't going to make demands. She was glad enough she managed not to spill anything. She slowly set her half-full glass down on the table. Then she turned to her… partner? Lover? "Miranda, last night…" Andy had felt successful enough when she walked her way home. However, it hadn't really lasted when the doubts had come. Miranda hadn't initiated it; had laughed with it maybe even.

"The walls have eyes and ears here," Miranda said, not leaning in herself yet not pushing her away either.

Andy looked up and piqued her ears, confirming that neither twin was nearby at first sight or sound. "Well, not now…" she taunted. "I want to make you come screaming again," Andy whispered in Miranda's ear, leaning in just a fraction closer so that her voice would caress upon Miranda's ear; her breath would be felt as well. A slight shiver ran across her skin, and it pimpled for a short moment. This did not go unnoticed by Andy, and it made her feel _very_ satisfied with herself. She felt more than saw her swallow convulsively. "I've never seen you look any sexier than when you came underneath me, and I want to do it again so badly. This time, I wanna kiss you all over… and then I mean _all over_ , teasing my tongue over that little button of yours like you did with me. I wanna make you feel so good."

Miranda immediately began to blush, her chest heaving and falling a little faster than it usually did. "Not with the girls––" she argued, but Andy could hear the growl and partial groan interlaced with her speech. "I won't be able to stop…" it sounded rather breathlessly. She could hear how she regretted it as well, and that was enough… It tickled her pink.

"You know, you can try to be quiet. How likely is it that those elephants will come downstairs without us noticing?"

"Well, when we are occupied…" Miranda began, but then Andy's mouth was on hers, and she obviously wanted it just as much when she didn't interrupt in any way. Instead, Miranda stood when Andy did and urged her to do the same; she allowed herself to be pushed against the kitchen counter and the younger woman's hand to find the hem of her skirt, to gather it up to her hips and to let her hand disappear between her slightly spread legs. "Ungh… You've no idea––" Miranda sounded as Andy cupped her through her expensive panties. This was not cotton. Andy was pretty certain that Miranda wouldn't own even a single pair of cotton panties, or if she had, definitely not within the last few decades or so.

Andy's eyebrow wiggled suggestively for a moment before she sank down on her knees at the Dragon Lady's feet, her hand leaving the wet patch between her legs. Undoubtedly, Miranda loved this position in which Andy was denigrated, where she had ultimate control and the other was literally on their knees at her feet. She gently urged Miranda to lift her leg so that she opened up more to her, leisurely kissing the elder woman's inner thigh… despite the fact they had little time. Andy wasn't sure how _usual_ it really was for the girls to come down during the evening.

Andy could feel Miranda push her pelvis forward suggestively. She doubted that it was a movement she could control –– after all, how unlikely was it really for Miranda to show a sign of obvious need this openly? Andy listened, though. She wasted no time, reaching over to roughly pull the wet fabric aside before letting her mouth touch the older woman's most intimate spot once, only barely kissing it. It wasn't that bad. Andy had expected it to taste and smell far worse… It wasn't working easily, though… thus she set Miranda's leg down on the floor again and gently began to pull at the panties' waistband. When they finally dropped to the floor and Miranda helpfully stepped from them, Andy's hand moved to the back of her knee and lifted her leg once more, laying it over her shoulder. _Better_. Experimentally, she finally let the tip of her tongue move between the folds of flesh and run up them once more, giving a flick to her clit as she left Miranda's pussy for a second.

Miranda buckled over at the touch, which was really awkward and shouldn't even be possible with her leg draped over Andy's shoulder as well. She could hear Miranda panting at her shoulder, her breaths tickling the shell of the younger woman's left ear. Miranda's moans encouraged her endlessly. "So good… That's why––" She began to suck gently on one of Miranda's folds, slowly working her way down, two fingers dipping momentarily inside her entrance. At that, Andy could feel pointed teeth sink into her collarbone through the fabric of her old top. It just barely muffled her moan, and she almost cried with joy herself –– and would have for sure –– if Miranda hadn't roughly pushed her face further between her spread legs, somehow anticipating her reaction.

Then the sound of elephants hurtling down the stairs sounded in the kitchen…

Miranda's leg slid off the younger woman's shoulder as the latter at once pushed away from her roughly. As Andy jumped to her feet and wiped her wet mouth and surrounding areas like the tip of her nose on the back of her hand, Miranda shimmied her pencil skirt back down to its usual length.

Andy only just managed to grab her half-full glass of wine and lean back against the counter beside Miranda for absolutely no reason at all. Why the fuck was that her first reaction at the panic coursing through her? She tried to control her breathing, hoping to Hell that the girls would not put two and two together. They were no toddlers anymore, after all…

Seconds later, two red haired, nearly eleven-year-olds came flying through the doorway of the kitchen, dressed in their identical nightdresses already. Too easy. They undoubtedly wanted something, because otherwise they knew that they would be kicked to their rooms to get ready for bed… "Mum, we forgot to ask you, can Andy come to our birthday party on Saturday?" Cassidy asked. They both stood there with their uncannily matching pouts, silently pleading for an answer that was positive.

"Well, if Andréa would like to come, then yes," Miranda said in an unwavering tone.

Andy absolutely had no idea how she had been able to get her voice under control so very quickly. Impressive… and handy. Had she learned that from being interrupted before, with someone else perhaps? She gulped from her glass of red wine at that thought and watched when the girls' attention turned to her.

"Do you want to come to our birthday party on Saturday?" Caroline asked in a tone stating that she better say yes, as if it was already settled and she was _only_ looking for verbal confirmation now while their mother was in the room. Oh, that twin would surely be a cunning young lady one day…

"Of course!" Andy said a tad too enthusiastically.

"Good, that's settled then," Miranda said, pushing away from the marble counter, eyeing her two daughters attentively. The looks upon their faces mimicked their mother's so well at times. The cute, gooey-eyed expressions had long left Miranda Priestly, though. "Girls, I'll just say goodbye to Andréa before I come and check your homework and wish you good night in a minute. Say good night to Andréa as well."

"'Night, Andy," Caroline and Cassidy both chanted, before turning and leaving the kitchen, padding back to their bedrooms upstairs. Neither Miranda nor Andy spoke or moved until the sound of their feet died away once more.

"Phew. That was… close. I guess I shall be leaving then," Andy said matter-of-factly.

Miranda confirmed by nodding once, watching as the younger woman pushed from the counter as well. "I really should check their homework. I bet they have been doing some birthday guessing…" She thought she caught a brief glimpse of purple chiffon in her hand as she made her way to the hallway to get her things dutifully –– the same sort of purple chiffon of which the bra she was currently wearing, was made. She didn't say anything, though. She followed innocently and opened the door for her. No kissing that time, not even on the cheek. They had had enough of that excitement for now, if not for the entire week already. Neither of them initiated anything. It really had been very close indeed.

As Andy stepped from the doorway onto the doorstep to Miranda's luxurious townhouse, she momentarily thought she heard her name –– and then again when she moved to leave, whispered softly in the still night air if she wasn't imagining things. She looked over her shoulder to see the Dragon Lady eying her steadily with a half-smile upon her soft lips –– very weird. Andy actually knew how very soft they were…

"Goodnight, _Ahn-dre-ah_ ," she whispered much to Andy's surprise.

Andy grinned. She would skip home.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47 (Wednesday, May 23, 2007) 

Erica smiled as she happily entered the little kitchen of _Life Today_. Andy followed, sipping from her cup of black coffee –– watching as Erica reached for her red cup from the cupboard and slowly poured herself a coffee, too. Unlike Andy, she added both cream and some sugar, before taking the chair opposite Andy at the small table. "So, who is the lucky guy?" Andy's colleague wondered, a smile on her lips.

"What?" Andy asked, shocked by the sudden question. She totally hadn't seen that one coming… at all. _Shit_.

"Come on, Andy," Erica replied in a mischievous tone. "Maybe you can fool Robert and John to a certain level as well, but something has changed –– about you, I mean. I dare say it began just after you were told to write that second article on Miranda Priestly, and I wasn't quite sure for some weeks, but during these last couple of days you just seem to radiate… like someone who is madly in love. Did you meet someone, when you were back at _Runway_?"

"I, uh…" Andy said, then sighed. "Well, yes, maybe I did meet someone there, but that's all that I'm saying –– for now," she replied rather mysteriously. Sooner or later her family and her colleagues would learn the truth anyway. Best to let them know that she had met someone already then. They absolutely didn't have to know that that person was an older female named Miranda Priestly yet, though. She gulped down the rest of her coffee, really only trying to suppress the sudden uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her family.

"Okay…" Erica said, sensing she wasn't really ready to talk about it yet. She thus changed the subject. "So, I heard from John that the new guy will have his first day here the second of July. He mentioned us all meeting up informally at the end of June or something –– at least if anyone was interested."

Andy nodded, getting up, pushing her chair back under the table and setting her dirty cup in the kitchen sink. "I'm sorry, I still need to do a lot of work on my article… and John wanted it done tonight…" Andy said apologetically, seeing her co-worker's surprised look, as if she was wondering what she had done, if she had said something maybe to upset her and cause her to want to run. She seemed to buy it, though.

Unfortunately, Erica wasn't the only one who noticed her happier attitude. Twice in the very same day! Well, the night before had truly been very nice indeed… When her mother had called during her break, she noticed, too, after the initial hi's, asking what was going on at the other's end and the family talk, work talk… *You sound really happy, baby. In hindsight, you have been for a little while. Is there a reason? Have you met someone?*

No matter what was going to happen, she knew that her mother would somehow know it if she lied or tried to hide something like this. She had always noticed that sort of stuff even when Andy was a rebelling teenager, too. Andy's mom wouldn't be satisfied with a few short answers –– the woman-in-love wouldn't be able to wave all questions off so easily as she had that morning with Erica. It was all so new, but if it went to Hell, her mom would definitely notice if that wasn't the case now already… then the whole ugly story would just be there for everyone, the whole wide world, to see there in the cold light of day anyway. She would have preferred not to do this like this, but she went home to Ohio barely twice a year… She would have preferred not to do this at work either, risking her colleagues seeing her burst into tears if it didn't end well, but it would only alarm her mother if she said she needed to talk about something important later tonight when she was home. She could cover it up with a lie maybe, that she had to go… but that was only postponing the inevitable. Best to get it over with.

Maybe it was a good thing that she was at work. She would try harder not to cry, which would mean she had a far better chance of achieving what she wanted to say. It was all going so fast lately, as if she was sitting in a rollercoaster… and couldn't get off. It was all going so fast what with informing the twins, informing her colleagues and now family. She wondered if Miranda had such a hard time with it as well… Probably not. Miranda Priestly could do whatever the fuck she wanted without needing to get anyone's approval or anyone's opinion. She wouldn't look for it either. It was all just coming so close together. Sod's Law, she guessed. "Mom, have you ever like, you know, when you want to say something but have absolutely no idea how, nor how the other person is going to react, so you are just terrified to say it?" It left her mouth in a rush.

*Andy, what's going on? You know that we love you, right?* –– *Andy?* Richard. Of course, she should have expected it. They usually called when they both were home, and Andy wasn't certain if that made things any easier, to deal with both of her folks together.

"Would you still love me if I told you I had met someone new… but, that person wasn't a man?" It remained suspiciously quiet on her folks' end of the phone, and Andy bit her lip nervously. She wasn't entirely sure what she had expected but thought she would have preferred it if either or both of her folks had yelled instead. "Mom? Dad?" she asked.

*This comes as a bit of a surprise…*

"It came as a surprise to me as well, Daddy… I'm sorry I have to tell you like this, but it sort of just happened and… I can't seem to help it. I've tried to really hard, but I can't…" Andy whispered honestly –– the truth in every single way. Oh, how often Andy had tried to suppress those thoughts and feelings for, and about, Miranda Fucking Priestly… It didn't really seem to work that way, though. _It_ _never had_.

*Honey, are you sure that you aren't mistaking it for friendship or such? You've always been into boys, for as long as I can remember.*

She could have guessed her mom would react that way, but she had thought about it too often not to know how to reply or to be plagued with those doubts. She had thought it through too much for herself already ––too often. "No, Mom. I'm sure I'm _not_ mistaking it. I love her. I believe I'm breaking with my tradition of _boys_."

*Does she love you as well?* her mother's voice sounded. It sounded sterner than usual. The question was hard to answer, though. They hadn't really shared 'I love you's yet. Andy chastised herself for not having waited a little longer, but the fact that she actually did, spoke for _enough_ , surely… She didn't know if Miranda had planned on making their _relationship_ public at any point soon, as in maybe taking her places or so, but she still remembered well enough how Page Six had _kicked_ on her relationship with Stephen,, and then… her and the woman whom she wasn't together with, if she believed her –– which she did really.

"I believe that she does, yes. Everything's very new."

*You _believe_ she does?*

Well, time to drop the bomb shell then. This was her own fault entirely, that she would now have to try to convince her folks of the fact that she and Miranda Priestly were in a healthy, equal relationship… she and the woman Andy had painted off as evil incarnate at that point a year before. "It is sort of difficult," she said. "You see… Gahh, I really wish I didn't have to do this over the phone, but the woman that I've fallen for… is Miranda Priestly, you know…"

* _The_ Miranda Priestly, your former boss from when you worked at _Runway_?* Andy's father interrupted in an incredulous tone. *How is that even possible? How can you love a person like that or believe that she can ever love you? You always said how cruel she was! You deserve much better than an insane woman who gave you those unreasonable tasks and made you work like Hell, who _always_ asked the near-impossible of you! Wait, is she threatening you?*

"No, Dad. Miranda's not threatening me in any way…" Andy whispered. She sighed. "Look, I know that I was a big part in you undoubtedly hating her for how she treated me when I worked at _Runway_ , but I've gotten to see a whole different side of her, and… I really like that side. I really _love_ that side." Then the flood of tears that had pressed against the barrier for the past couple minutes finally escaped and rolled down her cheek. She really liked Miranda Priestly how she was like as a mother and a lover… They were little things, but they were really there. She reached up with her free hand to rub them away angrily. This was all too hard. She figured she should just be glad her parents hadn't been shocked that it was a woman, rather _which_ woman particularly. She guessed if it had been someone else, they might have learned to even _live_ with it. She doubted it was the case now, though… She sniffled. "It isn't like that. I enjoy just being with her and loving her of my own volition, and I believe we… can make it all work somehow. Please, don't ask me how or why –– I don't know that myself yet either."

*I'm sure she won't argue if she gets upper hand at everything!* Andy's dad said.

"No, Dad, it isn't like that. Please, just… believe that I know what I'm doing here!"

That seemed to do the trick for her father, because she could hear his 'Fine-I'll-let-it-go-but-only-for-now'-sigh from his end. Andy's mother spoke next then, though. *Honey, you know that we do. See it from our point of view, though. You hated that _woman_ so much, and now you're telling us you're in love with her and she's supposed to be in love with you, too? I'll only be assured when I meet her and see it all for myself…* Now her mother sighed. *How did that even _happen_? I thought you weren't seeing the woman anymore?*

"Well, John thought it would be a good idea if I reacquainted with _Runway_ and Miranda Priestly in the run-up to the second article I wrote about 'Women at the Top of the Chain', and then of course we decided to mostly focus on her in it…" she began. _Then I suddenly realized I was falling for her, and I tried to fight it, but then somehow she seemed to let me in in her own way…_

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!

* * *

**Author's Note:** I really take my hat off to _Errol's Feather_ , who joined later yet reviewed each chapter in a matter of days!


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48 (Friday, May 25, 2007)

Miranda's twin daughters were definitely a handful, just like their beloved mother. They nearly equaled her when put together, and despite the fact that Andy truly appreciated that they seemed to like her or at least _tolerate_ her, they were certainly very exhausting. They had become attached to her rather quickly –– if you could call this 'attached'. Then again, maybe Miranda's daughters had enough experience now in that area –– Miranda with her three husbands and three divorces. True, they had never really gotten to know much of her first one, but the deal with Stephen counted for a quite great deal. She wasn't sure when Miranda had divorced their father anymore, but she seemed to recall the twins were very young when it had happened –– a couple of years old at the most.

Babysitting the twins definitely hadn't been on her agenda when she got up that morning. In fact, it hadn't been until that afternoon, when Miranda had called her on her cell phone at _Life Today_ and asked if she could escape from work early, since it seemed that Cara would finish at three PM, and Irv had unexpectedly rescheduled their meeting to two-thirty. Miranda doubted that she would make it home in time to be there for the girls, since a meeting with Irv always ran later than it should despite both of their tight schedules. Andy had assumed that that would be okay –– after all, she wasn't paid by hour but instead per day, and John didn't make a big issue of it if she left a little earlier, especially on Fridays. Andy had told Miranda that it would work even before peeping in John's office and asking if it would be fine if she left at two-thirty. Rather unexpectedly, he had asked where she was going. She had said that someone she knew from college was in need of a babysitter, and just as easily, John had bought it and waved her away, wishing her a good weekend, until Monday!

So there she was sitting now, on a bench in Central Park, watching the twins kicking a soccer ball back and forth to each other. She had joined in at first, but they were far more energetic than her, and since she had gone straight from work, she was still wearing her heeled boots, and… heeled boots on grass was not a great idea whether you were doing sports or not. They hadn't really agreed, though, telling her to continue on anyhow, but eventually, they had half-understood the deal with the shoes… after Caroline suddenly suggested Andy take them off instead then and Andy reassuring the girls that she wasn't in need of a broken foot or toes.

She had texted Miranda earlier –– despite the fact that she never actually sent any texts, Andy that she could read them at least. She thought she had seen her do so, in fact. After all, Miranda Priestly was good at about everything, wasn't she? The thought of her not being able to deal with such recent technology was nearly non-existent. She just hoped Miranda wouldn't decide to kill her for taking them to Central Park. They didn't look particularly clean anymore, but she _totally_ hadn't been able to deny them. The twins had nagged until she had given in. Well, they hadn't had to nag a lot –– in fact, she had given in rather quickly and only thought of what Miranda, their mother, might say about it afterwards. _Oops_.

Watching them and others who were there with children, she began to consider her own family situation. Was she a part of a family already with Miranda and her daughters? She wondered whether they would ever have more children together, if she would ever be able to feel what it was like being with child and giving birth and all that jazz. She definitely had enough with those two little monkeys for now, but she had always just assumed that she would have children of her own one day, not that she had ever thought about it in-depth. She wondered if that was ever going to be true, whether her relationship with Miranda continued or not. She wondered if it was ever going to end between them and if it eventually did, when but mostly why would it? She wondered how Miranda would react if ever she found her clock ticking and brought it up with her. Would she agree or not? Would she maybe mention it herself? Unlikely.

"Mum!"

Andy's head shot up at the sound of the two girls. Her eyes widened as she saw Miranda Priestly herself near, somehow managing to effortlessly maneuver across the grassy field in her stiletto heels. Even from across the distance, she could tell without doubt that the woman was Miranda. Even if it hadn't been for Miranda's trademark hair and sunglasses, the way in which she walked towards them was just _her_ , too. Miranda in Central Park… by foot… All right. Weird.

The twins hurried over to the bench on which Andy was sitting and to which their mother seemed to be making her way as well. They reached each other at almost the same moment. How funny. Miranda halted beside the bench and looked upon her daughters, then Andy. She smiled curtly at the wide grin her ex-assistant and lover offered her when she got there, which made her daughters laugh for one reason or another; it caused both adult women to eye them incredulously.

When the laughter died down finally, Caroline managed, "You two can kiss, you know."

Both Miranda and Andy spoke at the very same second then, the looks upon their faces revealing great shock. "What?!"

"Come on, Mum," Cassidy said, eyeing her mother with a very familiar raised eyebrow –– one inherited from the very same person she was addressing. "We're not blind," she said. "You look at Andy just like you looked at Stephen, but worse. I mean, it was quite obvious already when she came over for dinner last week, and just how you two are together… You are much kinder when Andy's with us."

"I am?" Miranda asked wondrously.

"Yeah!" both girls replied at once.

Miranda finally sighed and sat down beside Andy on the park bench, eyeing her daughters with seriousness. She briefly looked at Andy before turning her attention back to her daughters again. "I didn't want to be forcing your hand, like I may have done with Stephen. I just wanted you to like Andréa for herself before liking her as my partner."

"Mum, that's okay," Cassidy said, trying to balance their white soccer ball on one finger and spinning it, but it didn't seem to be working –– she only ever managed to spin it around just once or twice, before it already stopped and fell, only to be caught in both of her hands again. "Andy at least _wants_ to spend some time with us, unlike Stephen…"

"So, you two are okay with me?" Andy asked them before anyone else had a second's chance to say anything.

Both girls looked at her. "Yeah," Caroline said, and Andy was a little shocked. Caroline was definitely the more sour of the two girls –– what a huge goal achieved to first convince the two of liking her and then to get them to admit it!

"I want to keep all of this between us for now, though," Miranda said in a sure tone that was bound to make everyone listen to her at that moment. "So, no telling anyone at school for the time being yet either…" The twins had not missed the tone either, and they both nodded in confirmation. They would keep their mother's wish.

"Our secret?" Cassidy wondered, with big eyes of innocence.

"Yes, our secret… for now."

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!

* * *

**Author's Note :** If you like it, then you should leave a good review on it! ;)


	49. Chapter 49

 

Chapter 49 

"Girls, I'm afraid that Roy's waiting to take us home. Mrs. Tapioca's making chicken wok tonight –– for four," she said, turning to her lover. "I'm assuming that you'll stay?"

"Of course she will!" Caroline said, not even giving her a chance to decide for herself.

"Please, could we try to get the ball one more time from Andy, though?" Cassidy wondered, her eyes drooping in order to look more innocent, Caroline immediately following. Ah, those eyes were not to be ignored! Even with all that she was, Miranda couldn't say no to them either…

Andy laughed aloud, seeing the look on Miranda's face. Obviously, she wasn't into sports at all. If she ever had been, it must have been a rather long time ago… It tickled Andy how she for once knew something better than Miranda Priestly. It certainly wasn't a very bad feeling. She felt genuine happiness bubble inside her. Miranda, despite not at all getting what they were really asking for, nodded once. "Fine," she said, "but you'll still rehearse your lines after dinner tonight, okay?"

"Rehearse lines?" Andy wondered as she stood from the bench as well, looking from Miranda to the twin girls. She didn't know whether plays were still done in school now. It was already getting less popular when she had been in elementary school herself, but she did remember the part of the tree which she had gotten once. Her mother had been very proud of her role as a big apple tree, she recalled. There must be pictures of a little Andy dressed in greens somewhere… She assumed that her folks had them still in some old albums somewhere. There were many of her and Alex's childhood. "You'll be doing a play? Which one?" she asked, taking the ball from Cassidy's hands.

"The Sound of Music!" Caroline said in a suddenly grumpy-again tone. "You know… 'Doe, a deer, a female deer…'"

Andy recognized the popular tune at once, of course. She remembered one of her elementary school teachers ––fourth grade or so –– teaching it before forcing them then to sing it for the whole of the class. She had received a failing grade at it. Andy's female teacher had said she had never heard someone sing that off-key until she had to go. Little Andy had gone home crying over it, and her father and mother had tried to shush her, telling her that being able to hold a tune didn't really matter to them, as long as that she did well in other subjects. Alex had laughed at her, until his own teacher had incidentally heard of it and had asked them do the same. He had come home with an even bigger failing grade than her and that had been the immediate end of it. It was rather nice that being with Cassidy and Caroline made her remember so many things from her childhood now, from when she had been their age and younger. Now, she could laugh at most of it. She laughed at herself then, at how her voice hadn't bettered at all through the years. She wondered if that was the same for Miranda, wondered if Miranda had ever been an apple tree or ever had a failing grade for music. Her question was immediately answered, though.

Miranda Priestly began singing it from the beginning, encouraging both Cassidy and Caroline to join in once more. This sound was as special as hearing Miranda panting in her ear when they had made love, or moaning and groaning. However, while that had definitely made her blood pump fast and certain areas sensitive and _slightly_ swollen, this made her heart swell with this abundance of, of… _love_. Love. She could feel the tears bead now at the edges of her eyes, and she caught herself wondering when the Hell she had become such an emotional––

When the girls and Miranda finished singing the tune, Andy unexpectedly dropped the ball, beginning to run after it, dribbling it between both her feet, away from Miranda and the twin girls, doing her best not to fall face down into the grassy field as her heeled boots stuck in it. "Come on and get it then!" she yelled. She wasn't getting disappointed…

"Andy!" she heard, before the sound of elephants following her reached her ears –– little elephants, but nonetheless _elephants_. They reached her all too soon…

"Ahh! Nooo!" she cried as she tried not to fall while the two girls tried to trip her, in order to get possession of the ball. Unbeknownst to any of them, Miranda was watching the scene with a true, wide smile –– one that hadn't appeared on her lips for a great many years… and all because of Andréa Sachs being in her life, with her and with her daughters. Andy managed to turn and trick them, laughing as she ran back to Miranda, trying hard not to lose possession of the ball. "I'm winning! I'm winning!" she screamed in triumph, nearing Miranda.

"No, you're not!" Caroline argued, trying hopelessly to get a hold of the soccer ball. Andy was just _too good_ – they still had a lot to learn if an adult in heels alone could win against the both of them with decent shoes and supposedly a lot more energy than she had at her older age in comparison to theirs.

Andy looked to Miranda momentarily, redirecting her gaze for just one second… which was just her bad, because the twins took their advantage of that second to tackle her, resulting in both of them crying loud in triumph as Andy tripped over her own feet and landed in the grass, face down. She had extended her hands just a little too late. _Well… fuck it._

Then a rich sound reached to Andy's ears –– the sound of a person laughing, and she gazed at Miranda Priestly, confirming that indeed the heavenly sound, the sound of a waterfall of laugher… was Miranda's. Ah, forget the sound of her panting, or groaning or moaning –– even singing! This was the most perfect sound on the planet, and despite the fact that she was laying there, her face covered with grass and some mud –– she had to smile at it. She had never been able to call a sound other than a song beautiful. This sound wasn't beautiful either, what was she thinking? The sound was absolutely _perfect_ , true and so sincere that she really wanted to hear it for every second of every day for the rest of her life. She had wondered what it would sound like to hear her laugh for real so often, just once, and now she had and it couldn't be unheard. She never wanted to forget just how it had sounded, or maybe she did, so that she could be amazed by it every single time, over and over again…

Andy watched how Miranda walked over to where she lay a few feet ahead ––– she had only had to get a little further in order to have fallen right at her feet… She halted right beside Andy, bending down. "Well done, Captain," she whispered only just loud enough for Andy to have heard her say it. She noted the teasing tone. Oh, Andy had learned to recognize that one easily…

Andy supported her head with a hand. "You know, you could help me up instead of laughing at me as you're doing now. You are being unkind."

"I do believe you've actually deserved some public hand-holding, now that you have even convinced my girls," Miranda admitted, nodding slowly as she stood to her full height again. "Right now, however," she continued, "you can safely forget it. You are all muddy and grassy. You are definitely not entering the car either like that… You'll walk."

She was being serious, wasn't she? Miranda Fucking Priestly was going to make her _walk_ home now?! "Why, you evil…" Andy began as Miranda nodded at the girls for them to get going now and follow her to where Roy had parked the car. "I, _of course_ , wouldn't have expected any less from you…" Andy dared yell after her. That woman… Oh, if Andy hadn't known better.

Miranda looked over her shoulder fleetingly: her lover lying down in the mud and grass. The corners of her mouth curled into a slight grin. "I love you, too, _darling._ "

Andy's heart fluttered.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ•°¯`•• THE END ••´¯°•Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

* * *

**Author's Note:** Epilogues shall follow soon.


	50. 1 Year Later

**1 YEAR LATER - New York, March 2008**

"You know I don't like to be watched when I'm sleeping."

A soft giggle fell from Andréa Sachs' lips as she looked upon her lover. Miranda Priestly had the tendency to sleep on her back. She usually didn't take on that position at once when she went to bed, rather she would lay down on her side and turn a few times for a little while before eventually rolling on her back and falling asleep past REM-phase. She would stay pretty much in the same position, perhaps moving her arms or legs a tiny bit or turn her head, but otherwise she was a pretty quiet sleeper.

Which is why sleeping in one bed hadn't come easily for them at first. You see, Andy was the entire opposite of Miranda in her ways of sleep. She didn't exactly tend to fall asleep very quickly when she got to bed. She usually tossed and turned every few minutes before falling into a light slumber… after which her tossing and turning got less frequent and then even less so when she shifted from slumber into actual sleep.

She remembered how during the first few nights when the two of them had slept together, Miranda had seemed increasingly tired in the morning, especially when the pattern shifted from once or twice a week to two or more days in a row, until Andy practically lived at Miranda's, leaving the majority of her belongings there. Andy had actually been rather surprised that Miranda had not remarked on it earlier. Then again, as she thought on it, she had only truly mentioned anything one morning when they hadn't had sex the night before, which had nearly always been the case previous times. Andy had had her period and hadn't been feeling all that great –– usually when it had been that time of the month, Miranda (who apparently was lucky enough to no longer have any periods either for natural reasons or other –– Andy had never asked her) still received. That night, that had not been the case. Andy _really_ hadn't been feeling very well, and she had begun to come down with a cold as well. She had the tendency to come down with them when other people didn't, being first to leave her coat at home at the first rays of summer sunshine.

It wasn't so very odd that they hadn't had sex that night, especially since Miranda had not wanted her to even sleep next to her at first, when Andy had mentioned she was getting ill. Miranda Priestly absolutely detested ill people, and Andy had truly had to convince her that if she really wanted to be in a relationship with her, she was going to have to tolerate her being sick occasionally. She had wondered aloud what she had done when her ex-husbands had come down with something, to which the Ice Queen had immediately answered that there was another bedroom at the end of the hall. Andy hadn't really expected an answer, but she should have known that something like that was going to be the case.

"You're contradicting yourself, dear," Andy said with a grin upon her face.

Miranda opened one eye blearily and looked upon her lover. " _Dear_?"

Andy giggled aloud. They had had this conversation. "Yes, _dear_ ," Andy emphasized. "You really are a dear when you're not giving me the fish eye. You can be terribly cute when you're asleep, and by that I mean truly asleep and not in the state you were in just now, which you call sleep but isn't. If you had been, you wouldn't have been able to know I was watching you."

Miranda's other eye opened as well, as she first turned her head closer to Andy and then slowly rolled her body towards her under the sheets, too, leaning her head upon her hand and thus mimicking Andy. "Well, _sweetheart_ , you shouldn't be so sure as to what I am and am not able to do. Plus, I know that on the rare occasions that you actually wake before me, you have nothing better to do than watch me."

Andy bit down on her lower lip, widening her eyes in feigned offense, yet reaching over with her leg and draping it over Miranda's possessively. "Well, yes," Andy teased, "but shouldn't I take advantage of being one of the few people who gets to see you in such very flimsy attires? I don't think you fully realize what that does to me…"

The last bit was breathless, Miranda noted, and it tickled her to know that all she was saying was absolutely true… It was a nice feeling to know the mere sight of you could cause another person to become so sexually aroused that they would come in about four seconds upon direct stimulation ––but then Miranda Priestly had always liked to be watched and be the centre of attention to begin with, albeit normally with clothes.

"The only one, with the exception of the twins on very rare occasions."

Andy's hazel eyes glistened with the rays of early sunshine that peeked their way into the bedroom of the glorious townhouse. The sight made something rumble in Miranda's throat and no matter whether she loved Andy or not –– goodness knows if she did, because Miranda Priestly never said such words –– she knew and so did Andy that it was at least intense lust.

The sheets slid further down as Andy used her leg as a lever to raise herself up and straddle her lover, who necessarily rolled on her back to allow her to do so. The older woman remained perfectly still –– and Andy could somehow feel in the particular way in which the muscles of her arms and stomach contracted that she really had to try –– as the brunette placed a hand on either side of Miranda's head and folded herself down to touch her lips to Miranda's. Who cared about morning breath when you were allowed to kiss the most beautiful and unobtainable woman in New York… and maybe the world?

She remembered their very first kiss…

_Andy stood panting at the other woman, not having stopped for breath during her tirade, but instead of catching air, she felt like she was losing it once more, upon eyeing Miranda in that very moment; the way in which those blue eyes seemed clearer than Andy had ever even seen them due to the shock of her 'rage'. Her lips were slightly parted, as if she were battling either between keeping her mouth shut… or relaying a snarky, typical remark in return. The very air surrounding them seemed to change, and any other sound with the exception of her breathing suddenly became entirely mute as she eyed the elder woman who stood mere inches from her. Andy remembered the kiss with John, kisses with Nate and any other kisses she had had, but the intensity of how the very air seemed to crackle, seemed greater than it ever had with any other kiss. She felt like she was being barbecued, found herself growing hotter than she had ever been –– her sunburns of her childhood included –– and she was glad she had bitten down on her lip, or a whimper would have left her mouth at the sensation._

_She couldn't quite interpret Miranda's look, she found. Her blue eyes were clear… and at the same time stormy. Andy wondered when that had happened. Her pupils were larger than she had seen them, Andy realized, making them shimmer brighter than ever from the low artificial light overhead. She thought she had never seen Miranda Priestly look like that –– not at her or at anyone, but oh what a funny fuzz fell over her brain, her heart! It made her mind swim, lips burn…_

_She didn't know who moved first or if she or Miranda had moved at all, but she found her eyes fluttering shut at the touch of a warm, sweet wetness upon her mouth. At first, their lips barely touched, but then, she gently moved hers against the elder woman's and Miranda's only seemed to move easily in tandem against her own –– it had taken both of them less than a second to capitulate. She felt lost in the moment as that silky soft mouth slowly moved across hers, as if everything and everyone else, time included, had just… stopped. She could hear the blood rush in her ears now, the sounds of the rest of the world gone mute. No worry, nothing crossed her otherwise bothered mind when Miranda Priestly kissed her –– nothing but their kiss…_

_Andy's lips moved against hers for a few heart beats longer, and she wished it would never stop for as long as she lived. If she died right now, she would die happy. She didn't know what to do with her hands… they rose into the air and dropped midway before rising again purposelessly –– Hell, she didn't know what to do with herself as warm lips parted under insistent longing from both sides to taste one another better, and more. Her knees slowly began to weaken, and she didn't know if she could stay on her feet much longer. Tongues delved into wet depths, easily meeting each other, curling and uncurling again, tenderly stroking and dancing…_

She remembered their very first night…

_"I don't know what the Hell is the matter with me, but I want to take you to bed right here, right now," Andy whispered, still high on the kiss. Shaky, feminine hands snared into the elder woman's hair as she grew bolder, and she guided her face up again so their lips touched once more. She felt like she was going to melt any second. The thought of being pushed up against a door frame in Miranda Priestly's house and its owner kissing her with such vigor… The realization that it was Miranda Priestly who was kissing her like this, so freely… "Oh!" she gasped as she felt an experienced, warm hand cup and squeeze her breast, a thumb running over her nipple –– ridiculous how she had located it so easily and had elicited such delight in Andy through so many layers of clothing. Andy had never really reacted like that when a man had touched her breasts. In fact, after years of having been intimate with men, she had never even thought of her bosom as an erogenous zone –– boy, was she sadly mistaken there! She was now bound to forever change her mind in that respect._

_Miranda's other hand moved to the zipper of her jeans, and she could feel herself grow so wet. She actually keened as Miranda's hand slipped between her slightly spread legs… and cupped her roughly through the fabric. She was so fucking wet now –– wetter than she had ever been with any of her male lovers before. Miranda would just have to keep this going a little while longer and she would come, shaking in her hand hard… so hard. Oh dear, what was this_ woman _doing to her?_

One of Andy's hands moved down to fall upon the elder woman's hip, clutching and dragging at the silky nightdress she was wearing –– she had a lot of different ones in different colors, but they were always made of silk –– as her lips moved against softer ones, mouths opening and closing and finding a rhythm entirely of their own. They had established a rhythm between them fairly quickly, in _all_ ways satisfactory…

Therefore, the soft touch of Andy's tongue upon the older woman's lower lip was merely a cue for her to open up more, Andy's tongue entering her depths, the tip of her tongue meeting Miranda's and the two muscles swirling around each other as they reacquainted –– not that it had been that long since they had been apart. It had only been last night when the two women had truly and thoroughly pleasured each other last, but did it really matter how often, as long as it was pleasurable? Wasn't Andy to be excused anyway, for being allowed to touch such goddess-like figure freely without any limitations?

Tongues stroked across each other and rubbed, much in imitation of how the bodies to which they belonged longed to stroke across each other as well, as feminine fingers dragged fabric higher and revealed more silky soft and milky white skin. The woman was absolutely flawless. It shouldn't even be possible for someone her age, no matter genetics or external factors.

She put her weight purely upon her knees, trying to keep herself from crushing Miranda as she moved her other hand from the mattress as well in order to drag the silky nightdress off her with both hands. As the nightdress fell in a puddle upon the floor somewhere beside the bed – neither woman could care less about where exactly at that precise moment –– Andy's left hand returned to its previous spot in order to keep her weight from crushing Miranda as her other moved to the other woman's side and stroked slowly up and down, as she also lowered her pelvis just above Miranda's.

She felt and saw her arch and heard a moan slip from Miranda Priestly's lips. Obviously, she had just realized that Andy wasn't wearing underwear, causing the other woman to feel her wetness against her skin very well. Andy had learned to predict which mornings she could get lucky in that department. Sunday mornings were her best chance. Also, she had learned that Miranda liked her being naughty and without underwear, so she sometimes made the effort to take off her panties before trying to seduce Miranda in a morning tumble… Not once in their first year together had they been taken off in vain…

With a slight pop, their mouths parted slowly, making their panting become suddenly a lot louder in the otherwise silent room. Andy's mouth didn't remain idle, though. It moved on to leave a few soft kisses upon Miranda's jaw line, then shifted to the patch of soft skin right underneath her ear, which she knew Miranda liked to have addressed so much. She lightly sucked upon the skin and dragged her teeth across it, as the hand that had previously trailed her side now moved higher to cup the side of a perfectly formed and rounded breast, a thumb intuitively stretching across to rub across a pebbling nipple, which she felt only hardening under her touch.

"I love that you rarely wear underwear at night…"

"I don't do it for you, rather fashion," Miranda whispered seductively.

"Oh, and who would see you like this, in your form-fitting nightdress?" Andy asked with a quirked brow, gently pulling at her nipple, pinching it, rubbing it –– she enjoyed the way Miranda arched against her as she did this, for more… and more was something Andréa Sachs gladly gave to her. More sex. More fucks.

"You, to begin with," Miranda replied with a sigh of joy.

"Oh, so… it _is_ for me in the end?" Andy giggled. "Well, good. Because I love to fuck you, and the thought of you not wearing underwear while sleeping right beside me is so hot. It really makes me want to…" she moaned at the thought of what she really wanted to do right then, right there… and she wouldn't leave this bedroom before she had done it, "… fuck you, so bad. I want to _feel_ you come –– _see_ it, _hear_ it. You know I love it when you curse right before…"

Miranda wriggled wantonly. Andréa had learned too easily how those dirty words always got to her –– straight to her core. The best was that her actions usually even bested those words. Oh, yes, this was going to be a very good morning indeed…

Or so they both at least thought.

"You're so––" Miranda began, when she suddenly jolted up nearly literally, Andy having the same reaction when loud music began bursting from upstairs without warning. Both women had the same reaction of turning their heads towards the alarm clock, only to confirm that it was a little after eight-thirty. They sighed almost at the same time –– not again!

"Teenagers!" Miranda muttered. She would seriously and truly have to have a talk with the girls later today –– as soon as possible in fact. They had clearly entered their teenage years full force, having become that little bit more nutty and self-assured than before… and disobedient. She couldn't remember the number of times she had told them not to turn up the music that loud no matter what. She couldn't actually remember being that stubborn at their age… She looked up to Andy again and quirked her eyebrow at the inactivity. "Well? Stopped by a mere two teenagers already?"

Andy just grinned.

* * *

Please review... I would like to hear your thoughts! Kudos to those who have taken some of their time to review already!

My always modest beta reader, _Kreacher's Peepers_ , is just the best – I never would have managed to do this without her!

* * *

**Author's Note:** I hope for a happy New Years for everyone - may all your dreams come true in 2013 and may it find you loved most of all.

 


	51. Epilogue

** How Alike We Are: Epilogue **

If anyone, Miranda Priestly herself included, had said the fashionable Editor-in-Chief of _Runway_ America would get married again, she would have laughed. After Stephen, she had been certain that she would never do it a fourth time. She had sworn off any lovers that weren't 'good enough' anymore –– after all, she was very good at selecting the best, la crème de la crème.

If anyone had told her that she would get married to a woman, she would have laughed even harder. Miranda Priestly had known from when she was very young –– fourteen, fifteen –– that she was attracted to women, as well as men. She liked their curves so very much, the visible softness of their skin… how white teeth contrasted nicely against lipsticked lips –– the darker the red, the better (as long as it wasn't Bordeaux, however). She liked the strong planes of a man's muscled chest, too. She liked the strong appearance, the protectiveness they radiated… Yet they didn't have any of a woman's elegance. She liked different things in both genders in terms of appearance.

Miranda Priestly eyed female bodies daily, with scrutiny. When Andrea came into the office that first time, she saw someone who 'hid' from who she could be –– at least much more beautiful than she thought she was at any rate. Miranda still recalled the typical way in which her shoulders slouched. She had thought it rather curious, that she seemed quite full of confidence about her abilities as a beginning writer. At least she seemed to have managed to make Andréa Sachs see that if you like to be taken seriously and look self-assured, then you've got to match your looks accordingly, at least a tad.

If it came to personality, she looked for the same things. She looked for someone who liked her and wanted her but let her be independent, too –– someone who sort of liked her on command. Conversely, she liked people with an attitude, who were proactive in the moments when she wanted them to be. Alas, Miranda Priestly was a very ambiguous being, and she would undoubtedly never see just how difficult it was to read her. Women were often better at that, but too often the women she usually attracted were puppies running after her… She wanted to be idolized, but not obsessed over. Oh those fan girls. The line between was thin, very thin.

If she had been told that she would get married to Andréa Sachs, she would have called you crazy. She might have laughed with delight, at your great foolishness. She might have had Emily immediately look for a good psych; because anyone who had thought that anything at all would ever come from her, Miranda Priestly, and the much younger, often spineless Andréa Sachs must have been absolutely insane.

That's exactly what she thought of herself when she could no longer deny the chills of utter lust that ran down her spine when the younger woman sometimes showed a shred of confidence in her clothing or in other ways. Miranda Priestly of course wasn't blind. She had seen the woman change, seen the great metamorphosis. She had thought it successful enough. Plus, it even seemed to have had longer-lasting effects… for over the course of the weeks following, Andréa Sachs would show in even more daring attires –– far more so than what Miranda ever could have guessed. The changes in personality had mostly come after she quit as Miranda's assistant at _Runway._ She had seen her show a less spineless attitude at functions and in her job when she came back to Elias-Clarke in regard to her article. She had become more daring like that as well, Andréa's writing having become much less 'sweet' so to speak. Miranda rather… liked it. It did mad things to her, which she, truth be told, didn't really mind one bit, because in later months, they were often followed by satisfaction.

Yet it happened and when she thought about it rationally –– because she was a very rational woman at heart –– the mere thought that she could feel anything at all (even lust) for the girl with the briefcase and bushy hair was unbelievable. Yet… it happened, and while she could keep her mind from wandering off too often, her eyes regularly betrayed her. Her anger and her eventually undeniable attraction made her act a little foolishly when the two women were together, especially alone. Foolish enough to show up at Andy's work, Andy's home. Foolish enough even to lean forward… and to kiss her. She remembered how her mind had reeled when their lips touched, how it had screamed to gather her wits… and to push back before it was too late and she had fallen into the deep. She had chastised herself mentally for not being able to control herself, intermittently, mind you, with brief recollections of how soft her lips were, how well she always kissed… At least she was a very _very_ good kisser…

No, Miranda had believed it was all solely based on lust –– and that for a very long time as well. Then the little pieces had fallen together slowly, had become harder to overlook. Little tingles, little shivers down her spine. She had had quite a tough time admitting it to herself that she felt more than lust; felt more than something that could be satiated with sex, at least.

Miranda's biggest slip had been when she had sent Roy to get Andréa. She had most certainly not at all planned on taking her to her bed and being fucked and fucking her back mercilessly. It had been a very long time since she had been with a woman, and she seemed to have forgotten just how good it could be. Apparently, despite the fact that Andréa had never made love to a woman until then, she seemed to have a talent as well… Andréa had seemed to know exactly where to touch and in what order to reduce tough, old Miranda into a mess of pleas for more. She still knew this, obviously. No one ever would hear Miranda Priestly unhappy about the sex. There was enough of it, and it was definitely good enough –– every time.

She would have hoped for the feeling of lust to be gone once they had slept and woken with each other, but it hadn't. Something strange had come over her upon seeing the other woman lying in her bed the following morning, something undeniable –– something strong. She still wasn't sure if it was love, but she had definitely become attached to her. That feeling, whether it was love or not, had most definitely never been stronger with anyone else before. It was a foreign sensation to look upon Andréa, allowing her thoughts to wander and feel that, but it wasn't unpleasant… at all.

And yes, they were married now, a year after the legalization of gay marriage in the state of New York. The twins had hit their awkward teenage years early, though, and Andréa's initial talks about having another child herself had been pushed to the background… and had been for a little while… Undoubtedly the idea would stay there for quite some time, at least until after Caroline and Cassidy had managed to settle down somewhat. Truth be told, Miranda absolutely loved her children, but even she would be glad when they did, too. They were a handful with finding their identities. Caroline had actually even demanded she have a piercing in her lip not that long ago. Of course, Miranda had been opposed to it. She had very nearly fallen from her chair as Caroline mentioned it –– especially because she had in a tone that had sounded like she herself didn't make a big deal of it and was sure that Miranda would approve –– not so. No way.

Miranda wasn't sure if she would mind more, actually. They definitely had the means for one or even twenty more; that was not the issue. Money had never been a real issue for Miranda Priestly. After all, her position had many little and just as many not so little advantages. Then again, she worked hard enough for it in any case. No one ever could deny that. No one ever had.

Despite the fact that she had promised herself she would never get married again, Andréa Sachs had changed all of that eventually, too. She had colored her life. With Andréa in her life now, she didn't dare to make any guesses like that anymore. Miranda Priestly had learned the meaning of the saying 'never say never' very well at least. Maybe the concept of 'Love', too, whether she admitted it to herself –– or others –– or not.

* * *

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ•°¯`•• FINITE INCANTATEM ••´¯°•Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

* * *

84,000 words. I would like to use this last opportunity/update to take a bow to everyone who has reviewed, favorited or maybe alerted _How Alike We Are_ ; it has meant a great deal to me. I slaved over this fic for months and am grateful that some of you thought it worthy to read and give feedback on.

Another ovation goes to _Kreacher's Peepers_ , who always managed to get the beta read chapters ready in time for my updates despite her laborious schedule. She's been great in all ways. I never would have managed to do this without her support. She believed in me when I wanted to delete this.

* * *

This story was dedicated to miss _hermin22_ (Love ya! I hope you liked it!)

* * *

© The characters of Devil Wears Prada are the property of Lauren Weisberger and 20th-century Fox. No copyright infringement was intended.


End file.
